THE PREDICAMENT
by Hermione Hean Fui
Summary: When all hope is lost, Hermione had a crazy idea; creating a new prophecy to change the fate of the wizzarding world. Much to her dismay, her plan backfired, bringing them much closer to the losing end. How will she handle this? Will her mistakes bring her closer to a certain person who had never experienced something called love before and open new doors for both of them?
1. Chapter 1

Author's note:

Hello there! I know I haven't finished my first story yet, but this other idea had also been playing in my head for quite some time now. I'm too excited to keep it in my thoughts any longer. So, I decided to write two stories at the same time. I'll also feel more fun this way; sometimes it is kind of boring when you run out of ideas for the story you are writing, so you need another distraction, such as another story, right?

Thereby, here it is my new story, with my favourite pairing yet again. Hope all of you liked it. Enjoy!

As for now, I still have no idea how the plot is going to unfold; this is just a rough idea. Let me know whether I should continue it after reading this. Whether I will still continue this story depends on all of your reviews and feedback. Thus, please read and review, as your reviews are very much appreciated. Thank you.

Cheers!

HG/LV/HG/LV/HG/LV

Chapter 1: Prologue

The rustling sound of leaves and the crunching of twigs under her foot was nothing compared to what she was feeling right now. Her heart was pounding madly now, her pulse quickening as she made her way quietly through the Forbidden Forest. That night, the full moon illuminated the sky, making the shadows of the trees clearer than most nights. She gazed up into the night sky, admiring the beauty that Mother Nature had brought about in this wonderful world. The moon hung like a silvery orb above her head, and she smiled up at it.

A cold gust of wind made her shiver, and she pulled her black cloak more tightly around herself. After stopping for another few seconds, she continued on her way.

This was all madness, she realised. She should not have carried out her plan. It will surely backfire, she had predicted it. However, she figured that she had no other choice back then, and that was the best solution to the problem, it seemed.

"Stupid, stupid, stupid," she keep on telling herself. She should not have gone to the Headmaster's office in the middle of the night. She should not have taken the books on prophecy creation from the shelves, and she should not have read it. Now, the whole wizzarding world will be doomed; just because an insufferable know-it-all [as her Potions Master used to call her] decided to put her clever plan into action, to try and save the world. She felt disgusted with herself. She was ruining not just only her own future, but destroying the future of the entire wizzarding world.

She picked her way through the Forbidden Forest cautiously, steeping over fallen branches and climbing slopes carefully. Her small steps echoed soundlessly amongst the trees; only the occasional snap of twigs could be heard.

She walked on for another few minutes until she reached the place she had planned to come to earlier. Taking out her wand, she put up a few protective wards around her, to alert her if someone was near.

Then, she fumbled in her pocket for the package wrapped in a pink satin scarf. She found it at last, and undid the package.

Inside was a delicate crystal ball, containing the prophecy which she had just made herself. To say that she was proud of herself was an understatement; as a student who hated Divination, Hermione Jean Granger was certainly not the one who is seen to be able to create a prophecy. And yet, she managed it just fine. It was only a few days back when the mysterious turn of events have alerted her that her prophecy was having an affect on the whole wizzarding world.

"Damn!" she muttered under her breath, after gazing down at the crystal ball. This was all her fault.

She had tried to change the fate of her best friend, Harry Potter and the whole wizzarding world, by creating a new prophecy. She thought that it will work, since the old one has been broken, and she had read that prophecies can be reversed if a new one is created and certain spells are used to do so. Thus, relying on this sources [which she regretted greatly now], Hermione had sat night after night in the Headmaster's office, creating the prophecy which will change the fate of the wizzarding world. The portrait of Albus Dumbledore, the late Headmaster of Hogwarts had supported her actions and had even given her some guidance on the matter. Minerva McGonagall and both her best friends, Harry Potter and Ronald Weasley supported her actions too.

"At least you can occupy your time with this while we went and hunt for horcruxes," Harry had said.

"Yeah, Hermione. I agree. After all, you should not come with us; I feared that it will be too dangerous for you," piped in Ron, putting an arm around her.

She smiled at both of them.

"Thanks for all your support. I'll make all of you proud. If I succeeded, I'll save you both the trouble of horcrux hunting." The three of them had smiled back then, and promised to do the best they can.

"Now, all is doomed, as I've made the wrong predicament," Hermione whispered.

"It's now or never," she finally said, after a few more moments of silence.

She pulled the prophecy out of her palm forcefully and touched it with the tip of her wand.

Crunch!

The sudden snap of another twig made her jump. Hastily, she looked around her. To her horror, she saw that a figure was emerging from behind one of the tallest trees in the forest.

Hastily, Hermione touched the tip of her wand to the prophecy and concentrated. She needs to do it fast. He must have known about it, she gathered. That was probably one of his followers, coming for the prophecy in her hands.

There was no way she will let them have the prophecy; she will destroy it before they come for it.

With renewed determination, she gripped her wand firmly in her right hand and the prophecy in her left hand.

"Avada…" the words of the incantation barely left her mouth when she felt a firm hand on her shoulder.

"Stupefy!"

Before she knew it, she collapsed onto the ground, and became unconscious.

HG/LV/HG/LV/HG/LV

^^ There, it's done. Let me know how all of you liked it.

~~ Hermione Hein Fui ~~


	2. Chapter 2 THE BEGINNING OF THE END

Chapter 2: The Beginning of the End

"My lord?"

The snake-like man turned around, gazed at the door and sighed. He walked a few paces towards a comfortable looking armchair, and plopped down on it. He straightened his black cloak, to make sure that no creases could be noticed, before clearing his throat and answered: "Enter."

The heavy mahogany door swung open, revealing his most faithful and loyal follower.

"Ah, Severus. I've been expecting you for quite some time now." His thin lips curved upwards in a smirk as he beckoned the man forward.

The man wore heavy black boots and a long green cloak, which was buttoned tightly at the top, covering his neck from view. He had a greasy face and a hooked nose, black beetle eyes and black hair. He looked solemn as he approached the snake-like man.

"So, what news did you bring for me, my loyal follower?" the snake-like man asked, conjuring an extra chair and gesturing for the man to sit opposite him.

The man walked towards the chair conjured by the snake-like man and after a long, deep sigh sat down and leaned back in the chair with his arms crossed.

"My lord," he begins. "I'm afraid that we have bad news."

"And what is that supposed to be?" the snake-like man asked, a fierce glint starting to form in his crimson eyes which were sunken in so badly that they seemed to be empty and hollow.

"The Order of the Phoenix is planning to smuggle Potter to a safe location a few weeks from now. They were already prepared; all the necessary details have already been discussed."

The snake-like man gritted his teeth, trying as hard as he could to control his anger.

"And?" he enquired.

"My lord, I, of course has taken the liberty to arrange for the necessary steps. We'll plan an ambush on the gang. According to my sources, they were planning to bring Potter to the forests of Albania. So…"

"Ah…Albania indeed," the snake-like man chuckled. "I'm sure we can do a clean job on them once and for all. After all, I planned to ambush the boy myself. Albania was no foreign land to me; I've been there before and it'll not be a problem for me. All you need to do is make the necessary arrangements," the snake-like man said, getting up from his seat and pacing the room again.

"Yes, my lord." The greasy-haired man too started to stand up. "I've got a list of the members who were going on this special mission and we can bring our men to ambush them at the said time."

"Good. Now, let's call a meeting. We need to discuss a few things with the others. Mind you, Severus, I only need those from our inner circle as for now."

"I'll call them, my lord," the greasy-haired man said, as he rolled up the sleeves of his robes and pressed a marking shaped like a snake on his left forearm.

"You may choose to stay in this meeting or leave, Severus. I think I don't need you any longer now. You just need to pass me the list you've managed to obtain containing the information relating to the Order's plan," the snake-like man said, plastering on another of his trademark smirks.

"In that case, I think I better leave, my lord. Draco still needs me for his night training, and I'm afraid Lady Malfoy is quite on edge if I got there late. She won't want her son to be held up until late into the night," he chuckled.

"Ah, yes. Draco certainly is a pampered child," the snake-like man said in a flat tone.

The greasy-haired man nodded, rummaged in his pocket for a roll of parchment and passed it to the snake-like man. The latter unrolled it, scanned it quickly and rolled it up and threw it aside on a desk beside his chair.

"So, I'll see you next week then, my lord?" the greasy-haired man straightened up and started to leave.

"Yeah, Severus."

"Good night to you, my lord."

The snake-like man nodded curtly, before turning his attention back to his previous thoughts.

The greasy-haired man bowed and turned towards the door. He opened the door, and stepped out of the room. He closed the door gently behind him and was gone in a few seconds.

After a few seconds in whom the greasy-haired man had left, the room begins to fill up once more by more hooded figures. The snake-like man stood at one corner of the room, waiting for all his loyal followers to arrive before beginning the meeting.

When the last of the hooded figures had entered the room, the snake-like man stepped into the center of the group, who had now formed a circle and cleared his throat.

"Good evening, my dear followers," he begin.

"Good evening to you, my lord," they chorused.

"Today, all of you are called for an important…"

Before he managed to finish the sentence, the door burst open suddenly, and another hooded figure appeared, carrying a limp form under his arms.

All eyes turned towards the new arrival, and the snake-like man glared at the figure in disapproval.

The man was small and had watery eyes. His face looked like a rat and one of his hands glowed brightly as though it had been made from silver.

"My lord…" the figure started to say, trying to catch his breath as he stumbled into the room and closing the door not too gently behind him.

"Worm tail," the snake-like man begins in a disapproving tone. "What is the meaning of this? What is that you've got under your arms?"

Wormtail looked at the snake-like man, and his eyes then darted around the room, surveying the other present occupants in the room.

"My lord, I found her in the Forbidden Forest and…"

"Who is she?" the snake-like man snapped. "Do you know that it is rude to interrupt when we're in the midst of conducting a meeting?"

"I know…" Wormtail trailed off, as the snake-like man advanced towards him.

"What is so important that it can't wait until our meeting is over?" the snake-like man produced a wand from his pocket, and twirled it in his fingers.

"My lord, please," Wormtail started, "I can explain. I assure you that this is very important indeed, and it will have a severe effect if this matter is not attended too now."

"Oh?" the snake-like man asked questioningly, eyeing the small man in front of him. Wormtail had tried to make he taller, it seemed. The snake-like man smirked when he noticed a pair of twelve-inch high leather boots lying at the door. Wormtail had probably kicked them off before dashing into the room. He wondered how that stupid good-for-nothing rat-like man can Stan the height and put up with it for a whole long day. He will muse about all this later, he gathered.

"So, what is so important that it have to be dealt with immediately, Wormtail? Do enlighten us. However, be warned that if I found that you are crapping some useless things which only delayed us and did not help at all, you're going to suffer the consequences." The red glint in the snake-like man's eyes and his tone of voice was enough to make every single occupant in the room tremble.

"Y…yes, my lord," Wormtail said, his voice losing some confidence. The others in the room just gave him sympathetic looks.

"Now, my lord…" Wormtail started after clearing his throat several times.

"Have I told you to begin yet?" the snake-like man snapped.

"My apologies, my lord," Wormtail said quickly, before taking a few steps forwards and bowing in front of the snake-like man.

"There's no need for that, you stupid fool!" the snake-like man kicked out at Wormtail. Wormtail immediately fell to the ground, clutching his sides. He made a few wheezing sounds as he quickly picked himself off the ground, trying as hard as he could to control the pain that was beginning to spread through his whole body.

"Sorry, my lord. Pardon me." He managed to choke out before coughing violently and clutching his sides.

"Apology accepted. And now, you may begin," the snake-like man said, twirling his wand in his hands.

Wormtail immediately launched into a detailed explanation of his story. As everyone in the room listened, their eyes widened and at the end of the story, everyone's eyes, including the snake-like man's own, were widened in surprise and were as round as galleons.

"A prophecy? She was holding a prophecy? That mudblood?" a loud cackling could be heard as the first female follower in the room broke the silence. "I don't believe it. That mudblood!" She spat.

"Yeah, I don't believe it either," another male voice said quietly.

"Potter's mudblood? Creating a prophecy?" another of the snake-like man's followers cackled.

"Yes, I assure you that this is the case. I had been keeping a close watch on the girl since the old fool Dumbledore's death," Wormtail started to back his story up. He was getting nervous again, the snake-like man noticed. Perspiration was beginning to form on his forehead. No doubt he feared that his life would be at stake if he failed to convince all of them that he was telling the truth.

"I watched her through a hole in the wall. You know, I'm an animagus, and she did not notice me at all. Old Dumbledore had also been helping her a lot. Snipe was barely in the office; he had to go to important meetings, as instructed by you, my lord. Besides, Potter and Weasley boy had gone somewhere which I have no idea of. So, I watched the mudblood. And she really made a prophecy. It turned out that she noticed flaws in her plans lately, and she planned to destroy the prophecy. I managed to stop her before she did."

All of this was said so quickly, that the snake-like man took some time to digest all the information laid out for him by Wormtail.

Finally, he looked up and said: "And what exactly was the prophecy about, Wormtail?"

"Reversing the fate of Harry Potter," Wormtail replied, puffing out his chest proudly as he could sense that his master somehow trusted him.

"How so?" the snake-like man asked, curiosity evidently portrayed all over his face.

"She changed the predicament to "All should live while the enemy is vanquished."

"That is preposterous, my lord! How dare that mudblood…"

"Bela…"

"I will teach her a lesson!"

"Bela! Enough! I'll deal with the problem myself," the snake-like man said, straightening up.

"Wormtail, you've done a good job and will be rewarded," he said.

"Thank you, master. Thank you," Wormtail said, bowing and kissing the hem of the snake-like man's robes.

"Now, let me see the girl and the prophecy," the snake-like man said, taking a step closer to where the limp form that Wormtail had just brought in still lay, unconscious.

"All of you may leave now. We may have our meeting later. Severus will inform all of you about our plan later. I've the matter at hand to attend to. Good night, my followers and have a good day."

All of the hooded figures looked slightly disappointed as they turned and left. Finally, all was quiet and the snake-like man crouched down in front of the figure. Wormtail paced the room agitatedly.

"My lord?"

"Yes?" the snake-like man said absent-mindedly as he looked the girl over. She was just an ordinary girl, he noticed. Not a pretty one too.

"Maybe you should have a look at the prophecy first?" Wormtail said, holding out a package.

"Oh, yes. Open it for me, will you?" the snake-like man said, turning away from the girl. He will study her later, he decided.

Wormtail was busy unwrapping the small package. He pulled out a small crystal ball from the package, and held it out towards the snake-like man.

"Hold it there, yes, I need to make sure it's not cursed before touching it," the snake-like man said.

Wormtail trembled slightly as he heard this. He shifted uncomfortably from foot to foot as the snake-like man stood up and made his way towards Wormtail.

"Hold it out just a bit more. Ah, yes. Stay still!"

The snake-like man took out his wand, prodded the crystal with it at several points and smirked satisfactorily after a few seconds.

"Ah, it is safe," he muttered.

"Here you go, my lord," Wormtail said, holding out the crystal towards the snake-like man.

"Wait…"

But the words were not out of the snake-like man's mouth before the disaster occurred. Thinking that he had done his job well and will be out of the room soon, Wormtail had released his grip on the crystal after his master had pronounced it to be safe and after his last sentence. The snake-like man who has not noticed it at first widened his eyes in horror, as the ball started to fall out of Wormtail's hands, and he did not managed to caught it in time.

"You fool!" he cursed under his breath, reaching for the ball quickly, but it was too late. He tried to raise his wand, but the ball hit the stone floor, and shattered into pieces.

A panicked look crossed Wormtail's face. He screamed and tried to back away.

"Come back here you fool!" the snake-like man shouted. But Wormtail was already exiting the room, as puffs of smoke started to emerge from the broken pieces.

The snake-like man turned back to the crystal, and his eyes widened in surprise.

"What…" Wormtail's hands were still on the doorknob.

"Wormtail!" the snake-like man bellowed.

Bang!

A purple light emerged from the crystal. Then, a green one, and at last a blinding flash of white light and all was still.

The three occupants in the room was rapidly engulfed in the white light, which was spreading like a huge mist around the room, and with a puff, all three of them disappeared and tumbled far, far, and further into oblivion and nothingness.

The wizzarding world was doomed. History was changed forever. No one knows what to become of the world they most treasured now. No one, save the shattered prophecy, who had created new history, and was now lost forever on the night it shattered, destroying previous history along with it.

It is the beginning of the end.

HG/LV/HG/LV/HG/LV/HG/LV

^^ Hey! It's done! So let me know how all of you liked it.

^^ Stay on for the next chapter, it'll be more interesting, I promised!

~~ Hermione Hean Fui ~~

"


	3. Chapter 3 THE GIRL WHO LIVED

Author's Note:

Hello there! Here's chapter 3. Hope all of you liked it. Ideas start to flow into my head as soon as I finished the previous chapter, and I just can't stop writing them down now. So, I've plan to put my first story on hold for a while as I continued this one for a few more chapters. The chapters will be quite short at first, but I promised they will get longer eventually as this is just the beginning.

Before I begin, I would like to clarify a few things first, so as to avoid any confusion later when you read the chapters that followed.

In the coming chapters, Hermione will have no memory of what she had previously done, as history was change. She will begin her new life, as history was altered by her prophecy. She only found this out somewhere near the end of this entire story. There will also be a few new characters, and a few events in the HP series will be altered to suit my plot. If I found it necessary, I'll create certain incidents which were completely AU to make the story line more interesting. I hope all of you liked it.

Having said that, let's begin, shall we? Enjoy!

HG/LV/HG/LV/HG/LV/HG/LV

Chapter 3: The Girl Who Lived

September 19, 1979

"Congratulations, Mrs. Granger!"

The woman looked up from the bed which she was lying in and managed a tired and weak smile. She gazed down at the small form which was held in front of her by the midwife and eyed it with pride.

"It's a girl," the midwife informed her, as the woman tried to open her mouth to ask the same question.

"Oh!" Mrs. Granger sighed happily and extended her arms towards the midwife. "Thank you, thank you so much. Now, can I hold my dear daughter?"

"She'll be in your arms once she's cleaned. I'll allow you to breastfeed her if you feel up to it," the midwife smiled.

The door to the room opened, and a man stood in the doorway, looking anxiously into the room.

"Emma dear, is everything alright?" he asked, with concern laced all over his voice.

"Congratulations, Mr. Granger. Your wife gave birth to a beautiful baby girl," the midwife turned towards the door, giving the man a broad smile.

"Oh honey, we made it! We made it!" Mrs. Granger cried, tears of joy forming in her eyes.

A bright smile lit up her husband's face as he strode across the room and stood beside her bed. He took her hand in his, and gave it three light squeezes.

"Yes, darling. We made it. Thank you for giving me such a wonderful child," he said, bending down and kissing his wife's forehead gently. A low moan escaped Mrs. Granger's lips, as she took her husband's hand and returned the squeezes.

"I'll be right back," the midwife said, carrying the small bundle, who was now whimpering slowly. "I'll let the both of you have a look at the child once she's cleaned."

"Oh, I can see she is beautiful," Mr. Granger said, sitting down on a stool beside the bed.

"Oh, she is. Of course she must be beautiful, after all, she is our daughter," Mrs. Granger said, smiling tiredly up at her husband.

"Look at her long dark lashes, and black hair. Pity she got black hair instead of brown. That made her look more like you," Mrs. Granger said, eyeing her husband with puppy-dog eyes.

"Oh, she has the same high cheekbones and hazel eyes as you, Emma darling. I daresay there is a 50 % of your looks in her and 50 % of my looks too. That made it even, doesn't it, darling?" Mr. Granger said, smirking at his wife.

"Whatever you say, dear," Mrs. Granger stifled a yawn and smiled at her husband warmly. For a moment, both of them locked gazes and smiled at each other.

"I love you, darling," Hugo Granger said, taking his wife's hands in his and giving her palms a kiss.

"I love you too, honey," murmured his wife. She stifled a yawn again. Hugo could see that she looked quite pale and tired. No doubt giving birth had drained all her energy from her. She will need her rest, he decided.

Emma darling, you looked exhausted. Why don't you rest for just a bit? I'll wake you up when the midwife returns," Mr. Granger said softly, planting another kiss on his wife's forehead.

"But I want…" Mrs. Granger stifled a yawn.

"Oh, no worries. You'll still get to see our daughter later. Just close your eyes for a while. I know it had been a tiring day for you."

"Mmm," Mrs. Granger murmured, giving her husband's hand another squeeze. Her eyes were now half closed.

"So, what shall we name her, Hugo?" she asked her husband softly after a few minutes of silence.

"How about Hermione? We have discussed this for a few times already. I think that name suits her just fine." Mr. Granger said, looking down at his wife.

"Mmm. Hermione it is then," Mrs. Granger murmured sleepily and closed her eyes.

Mr. Granger smiled down at his sleeping wife before sitting down on the chair next to her bed.

"Praise the Lord." He uttered a silent prayer. They had made it at last. It has only been a year of their marriage, and they had managed to have their first child. This is indeed a blessing.

He smiled down at his sleeping wife again. They will made Hermione Jean Granger a great person, oh yes they will. Together, both of them will give her their love and support and nurture her into a beautiful, healthy, intelligent and all the other good characteristics that a Good Samaritan will ever have. Little Hermione Granger will be loved and cared for by both of them and he will made both his wife and his dear daughter happy for ever and ever and ever as long as he lived.

However, little did Hugo Granger and his sleeping wife know that their dreams and hopes will be shattered in a year's time? There was no sign of the disaster which was going to happen in the Grangers' lives soon.

HG/LV/HG/LV/HG/LV/HG/LV

The village of Little Angleton: October 31, 1980

The chilly autumn wind lashed against the closed windows of the neat rows of house above the hill, overlooking the whole village of Little Hangleton. Mist was forming in the night sky and the moon was obscured from view. If one were to gaze down from the top of the hill on a clear night, they will be able to see the village of Great Hangleton too, which was located a few miles to the west of Little Hangleton. On this particular night, no one suspected that something terrible is bound to happen to a certain family, who was now snuggling cozily in a big mansion atop the hill. The mansion was so breathtaking and captured the attention of those who were climbing up the hill or who happened to pass through this part of the village. No one will miss the great mansion, perched on the hilltop, with its elegant French windows and large grand double doors. The landscape was also beautifully done. From below, one could still see beautiful shrubs emerging from the fences surrounding the property. Colourful sunflowers, roses, daisies and buttercups framed the outside of the house, creating a little garden which can be view from below if one took a closer look at it. A fountain was also placed at the entrance of the mansion, with the pattern of a mermaid pouring water into a jug. It is a wonder that one should miss it when they walked through the quiet part of the village, which was known as Little Hangleton.

The village of Little Hangleton was a quiet and nice village. All the villagers were ordinary people who lived in a carefree manner and carry out their daily routines happily. At daybreak, most villagers will attend to their crops, mowed their lawns and sometimes if time permits it, having a cup of coffee or a glass of wine at the local coffee shop or bar and chat idly. The women, who will do their shopping in the morning, will wander off to have tea in the evenings, gossiping about the latest happenings around the place. At night, most of them will retire to bed as happy as a merry soul, and go to bed thinking about what to do the next day and looking forward to it.

Despite this, the village of Little Hangleton also have some dark secrets; secrets which most older villagers will know but will not mentioned it unless they felt like it. They were too horror-struck by what had happened almost thirty years ago that they will normally gossiped quietly amongst themselves and not letting the younger villagers hear a word about it. They feared that it will attract bad publicity to the village if words of the terrifying incident got spread out around Great Hangleton and other villages around the countryside.

On this particular night too, as the family in the mansion above the hill enjoyed themselves, three old villagers sat in the Hog shunt, the village's most famous bar, sipping their wine and chatting as usual. It was in the midst of their conversation that the topic was brought out by one of them.

"You know Hugo," one of the older man said, "He'll never listen to anyone. He bought that place. Do you believe it?"

This man was rather short and pudgy. He had graying hair which was almost balding and a large moustache, watery eyes, a small flat nose and full-lipped.

"Ah, Dot. You don't have to tell me this. I know Hugo; he would not believe a word of it. I've told him that the place was kind of spooky and haunted after the murders, but…"

"Shhhh, Hetty," the third villager, who was a man gestured for her to keep her voice down. "You don't want Ricky and his gang overhearing this, do you? Mind you, they're just a few tables down from where we are sitting."

This man was slightly smaller than Dot, and thinner too. They looked almost alike save this man do not have a large moustache. The woman he was addressing was a plump and petite woman, with graying hair, a large mouth, a round face and a nose which was too large for her and made her look out of place.

"Bah," Hetty said, pounding her fists on the table while glaring daggers at a gang of youths who were smoking cigars and laughing jovially three tables away from where she was sitting. "Who cares" It's a fact that our village is used to this kind of gossip."

"Hetty," Dot said, putting an arm around the petite woman. "I think you had had too much for tonight."

"Ah, nonsense, Dot," Hetty said, "I know what I'm saying." She pursed her lips in a thin line, took a quick swig of her whiskey and continued. "Now, where was I? Ah yes. Hugo didn't believed what I told him. He just laughed. I don't understand. What but Riddle mansion of all places? He could have bought the Hawthorne Villa in Great Hangleton. That's a beautiful place, you know."

"Hugo is a tough and difficult man. He only listened to his wife and parents. He won't take us seriously," Dot said. "What say you, Jackson?"

The third villager, who had been keeping quiet after failing to ask Hetty to keep her voice down now looked up and cleared his throat.

"I don't know," he said finally. "It's really kind of funny, when you asked me. All the Riddles were just dead, gone just like that. Not even a cut, wound or any signs of murder was found. They were not poisoned either. This is really weird. And Frank said he saw someone; a young man…" he trailed off thoughtfully.

"Yes, the young man; the mysterious young man. No one ever saw him again. Frank said he looked like Tom Riddle," Dot added.

"Yeah, but the local police could not find a man matching the description provided by Frank. They have looked almost everywhere." Hetty smacked her lips thoughtfully, and tipped the remains of her whiskey into her mouth. He put up a finger, signaling the barman for another refill. Dot and Jackson too signaled for a refill.

"So, I think that place is not right. Hugo should have bought another mansion instead," Hetty said.

"Yeah," Jackson and Dot finally agreed. "But nothing had happened so far," Dot continued thoughtfully, drumming his fingers on the table.

"Yeah, lucky for them. I always got chills running down my back whenever I passed the big house. Wonder how Frank can still stand the place. You know he continued to work as gardener for that place, don't you?" Hetty asked, taking yet another swig of her whiskey that the barman had just bought her.

"Yeah, we knew it already," Jackson and Dot said in a bored tone. Sometimes, Hetty tend to be forgetful and reminded them of things which they already knew or heard of, especially juicy bits of gossip that interested her.

They continued to talk about Frank, about Hugo and his beautiful wife and daughter for a few more minutes.

Unknown to the three old villagers, their conversation was overheard by one particular person, who was sitting at a table right behind them. No one seemed to give the handsome and dashing young man any notice, as he sat there, sipping a glass of cold beer. Everyone in the bar was so immersed in their gossips and talks that they did not notice that something was not quite right with this particular young man.

The young man was tall, with broad shoulders and a handsome face. His dark hair was neatly combed and partly to one side, his gray eyes admitting a dangerous red glint if one was to look closely at them, he had high cheekbones, a beautiful nose which just matched his features and a full-lipped mouth. The young man, who was in his mid forties was very thin, and looked as though he never aged at all; he still managed to retain his teenage good looks, and he was rather proud of it.

How he was unnoticed by the large group of girls filling up the bar was a mystery indeed. Perhaps their brains were too intoxicated to notice him, he mused or perhaps they were just too stupid not to notice him. Only the barman who had attended to him noticed him, and gave him a warm smile before taking his order.

The man crossed his arms and smirked as he heard the three old villagers gossiped away. If one was to look closely, they will see a mad glint beginning in his eyes as the three old villagers brought up the subject of the Riddle mansion.

He tuned out of their conversation as they talked about someone called Hugo for quite some time before returning to the main point. He had no desire to know about other people's family, especially filthy families who do not worth living at all, in his opinion.

The cackle of the old woman in front of him brought him out of his musing, as he heard the words which he hated the most.

"Yes, Tom Riddle. He was a dashing and nice man, you know. But sometimes he has to mind his ways, especially around ladies. You know he made my poor Cecilia's heart broke when he ran off with that tramp's daughter?"

"Oh, Hetty. We know that story already," the man who was called Jackson said with a bored tone, and gives his companion, Dot, an exasperated look.

"I could tell that he was bewitched. Those tramps were up to no good, I could tell the moment I set eyes on them," Hetty continued. Anger was boiling in the young man now. How dare that old woman say such thing, when she did not know and understand a thing at all?

"Cecilia once told me that they nailed a dead snake at their old ugly shack, and I had the shock of my life. Imagine that! Nailing a dead snake on your front door! And that is not all." Hetty brought her voice down into a whisper and continued. The young man had to strain his ears and leaned forward slightly to hear what she was saying. "Cecilia also told me that both the tramp and his son looked quite haggard and senile. She managed to catch a glimpse of them one day, and guess what? There was a snake, a real snake in the son's hands. He was hissing and spitting at it all the time and the snake just curled itself around him. I think they're some kind of snake charmer or something at first, but Cecilia said that they were just making a fool out of themselves, so that someone will notice them and pity them. This seemed to be the right way to gain other people's sympathy, say she, with their current living condition. And their daughter?" Hetty suppressed a hiccup before continuing, "an idiotic tart in my opinion."

"Hetty…" Jackson tried to stop her, but Hetty was rambling on as her face reddened. No doubt she had gotten herself drunk, that silly bitch, the young man mused.

"And you know what?" she gestured with both her hands. She was attracting quite a lot of attention by now. Occupants from other tables kept on giving her curious stares as she continued in a voice which was starting to slur and showed the slight signs of drunkenness.

"I agreed with Cecilia. These were good-for-nothing people. They kept on making other people's lives miserable, when they could not get what they wanted." She pounded the table with her wine glass with such force that some of the unfinished whiskey sloshed out of the glass and smeared the front of her blouse.

"Hetty, please control yourself," Dot said quietly.

"Yeah, and the tramp's daughter was the worse. Lurking around alleys, following Tom and Cecilia about, looking out at Tom. Cecilia could tell that something was not right when Tom did not return after a long ride on one afternoon. And then there was this rumour that Tom had been disowned by his parents for marrying a slut…"

"Hetty, I think you've quite enough for the night," Dot said, putting a firm hand on her shoulder. "Let's go home. Other people will hear this if you don't stop. You don't want Cecilia coming here and fetching you home, do you?"

"Nonsense!" Hetty bellowed, belching at the same time. "I'm not drunk, Dot. And stop babysitting me about what to say and what to shut up about. I will say whatever I wish to say," she snapped.

Dot looked at Jackson, and both of them just shook their heads.

"Anyway, where was I? Hetty asked, a confused look crossing her face. "Ah yes," he brightened up as she remembered what she was saying previously. "Cecilia broke off immediately with Tom after his return a few months later. He says he couldn't remember a thing, and his parents believed him. Pathetic!" Hetty spat. "How could they believe their son so easily? Maybe he had a child with that slut before running off. I don't believe that nonsense that says that he had been bewitched anymore, come to think of it." Hetty was standing up now, shaking her fists at everyone in the room. "Hey! Hear that, all of you?"

All eyes were on her in an instant. Some of the youths just gave her confused looks, and returned to their chatter. Others just turned their attention on her.

"Where was I again?" Hetty belched and clutched her stomach before straightening up and clearing her throat.

"Hetty dear…" Dot tried again.

"Oh, shut up you great prune!" Hetty said, giving Dot a rough push. Dot stumbled to keep his balance and backed away. The young man could not miss the hurt look in his eyes as he started to leave.

"I'll see you tomorrow dear," Dot said, giving Hetty another look.

"Let's fetch Cecilia," Jackson suggested, putting an arm on Dot's shoulder as the former started to stomp off quite angrily.

"Oh yes, how come I never thought about that?" Dot said, starting to make a turn and headed in the opposite direction. "Only she can handle her mom, it seemed," the young man heard him muttered before leaving.

Jackson too trailed after Dot after quite some time. Now, Hetty was left standing alone the bar, looking like a madwoman. Her graying hair was in a mess, her face red and her eyes unfocussed.

"Yeah," she started again. "I'm telling you, if Tom ever have a child with that kind of woman, who is better known as a tart, it will be the most terrible and horrible shame of the world. A filthy baby indeed. Not even clean at all. Wonder whether Tom was forced into it sometimes, but we never know, right? Men are terrible beasts who like to do whatever they wanted and…"

No one noticed as the young man got up from his seat and fumbled in his pocket for something. No one even noticed when he produced a long wooden stick of about thirteen and a half inches and twirled it in his fingers, as he glared at the drunken woman in front of him.

"Another filthy blood indeed, if you asked me," Hetty said, belching for the third time now. "If Tom and that tramp woman ever have a child, I can only think of one word to describe it, no matter whether it is a girl or a boy. And you all know what that word is? It begins with a "F" and ends with a "H"; f-I-l-t-h. Filth!" she spat out the last word.

The young man's grip tightened around his wooden stick. Slowly, he stood up from his seat. Eyes were begun to stare at him now.

"And you know what?" Hetty asked, in a slurred voice. "If Cecilia had listened to me, she will not have gotten into this mess with that filthy lot, and she will not remain single until today, I assure you. I…"

Before she was able to finish her last sentence, a car appeared and a woman in her fifties stepped out of it, with Dot and Jackson trailing behind her.

"Mom?" she said, making her way towards the drunken woman. Concern was written all over her face. "Mom…"

"Cecilia!" the woman cried out, "oh my poor child. I was just telling the others about you and that lot of filth…"

"Mom, I think you had had more than enough. Let's go home, shall we?" Cecilia said, putting a slender arm around her mother. The young man looked at the girl from the corners of his eyes. She was not a pretty one; just like her mother but she was gifted with beautiful skin.

"Like mother, like daughter," he snarled to himself before tuning into the conversation again.

"Oh, no. I want to tell them the truth, Cecilia darling. After all, you've been through a lot. It's time all those youths who thought highly of the Riddle family know something which had been kept from them now. What say you, ladies and gentlemen?" Hetty raised her voice to full volume at her last sentence.

"Mom, please," Cecilia was starting to cry now. The young man could see that she had tried to control her emotions all along. Now, the dam had finally burst. "Please mum, don't do this anymore. You're ruining our lives, you know." The girl sagged against her mother, and hugged her tightly, sobbing at the same time.

"Oh dear," Hetty started to cry too. "I'm sorry. Let's go home. No, I won't ruin our lives, I promised. Now, let's go."

The young man could see the energy draining out of Hetty as she was led to the waiting car by Dot and her daughter on both sides, and Jackson supporting her from behind.

The young man let out a deep sigh. He will punish this filthy woman later, he decided. After all, he did not wish to create a scene and attract the attention of the others in the bar. However, his plans changed as Hetty walked passed his table and looked up suddenly.

For a moment, her face was blank. Then, her eyes widened in recognition and she gasped.

"Mom?" Cecilia, who had noticed the change in her mother's expression asked in a concerned voice. "Are you okay?"

"You!" the woman shrieked at the young man, wrenching herself free from her daughter and Dot's grasp and advancing towards him. "You! Why are you here?"

The young man looked surprised at first, but then he managed to plaster the blank expression which was earlier on his face back again.

"Mom? Are you…" Cecilia's mouth dropped open too when she saw the young man. For a moment, she blinked, and then the commotion started.

"Tom! You bastard!" she screamed at the top of her voice, flinging herself at him so forcefully that the young man was almost knocked off the ground. "Why are you here? You're already dead, aren't you? Have you been hiding from me for so long?"

All the others in the bar had by now gathered around the young man, and looked at him in surprise written all over their faces.

"Mr. Riddle? Young Mr. Riddle?"

"Oh, is it really you, Tommy boy?"

"Tommy…"

"Tom, where have you been for these years? We thought you're dead."

"Oh, it is Tommy boy. Look, he had the same handsome face as always."

The young man had had enough finally. He wrenched himself free from the two women who were trying to hit him roughly, and straightened up.

"Shut up, you filthy Muggles!" he bellowed.

"What is that you're saying, Tommy boy?" one of the people in the bar asked.

"What's a Muggle?" the drunken woman enquired, still advancing towards him. "You! You shut up! You ruined my daughter's life, and I'll not let you get away for what you had done to her thirty years ago!"

"I said that is enough, you crazy Muggle! Get your filthy hands off me!" the young man said. If one had known him, they would better back away now, or the consequences will be far more badly than they could ever imagined. However, as poor Hetty and her clan had no idea about who the man was and what he was capable of, she continued to advance towards him, ignoring his warnings. Cecilia, Dot and Jackson trailed behind her, while the group of people in the bar just watched the play out in front of them.

What happened next was totally unexpected.

One moment, Hetty and her clan was advancing towards the young man, who had a long wooden stick drawn as though he was prepared to attack them if they got nearer. The next moment, everything was pitching black and with a loud boom, everything, the place was quiet.

"Obscurio!" the young man thought, waving his stick, and all at once, all the others' visions were blocked.

"Muffliato permanento!" Now no one will hear anything.

"Now, let's see how you liked this, Muggle. Do…not…ever…call…me…a…filth….Crucio!"

Instantly, Hetty's body fell to the ground, and she begins to scream and scream and scream as she thrashed about on the floor.

"Crucio!"

Her screams increased.

"Silencio!" Hetty's screams were gone suddenly.

"What are you doing?" Dot asked, looking scared. "Are you some kind of wizard or something?"

All the others cringed as the young man turned towards Dot, and laughed in a high-pitched maniac-like manner.

"Ah, at least I got one clever Muggle here, eh? So, I think you should be rewarded for figuring this out fast. What say you?" He smirked at Dot, who trembled slightly but still tried his best to maintain his stance.

"I'm warning you, if you hurt all of us, I'll report you to the police. I don't care who you are, Mr. Riddle or not."

"Ah, is that so, Muggle? Then, I'll have to withdraw your reward, tsk, and tsk. And replace it with something else, eh? Incendio!"

Immediately, Dot's clothes were put on fire. He screamed as the flames licked his skin. Cecilia looked as white as a sheet.

"Please, don't hurt him. Don't hurt my mother…I beg you…"

The young man laughed and directed his wand towards Cecilia.

"Ah, yes. I'll not hurt your mother any longer. This is the last time, I promised. Avada kedavra!"

There was a blinding flash of green light, and in front of her own eyes, Hetty watched as her beloved and only daughter collapsed onto the ground, clutching her chest as the jet of green light hit her squarely there. There was a blank look on her face and her eyes were still widened in surprise, but Hetty noticed one thing; one horrible thing. Her daughter was dead.

"Now, how's that like, Muggle? To see your beloved daughter die in front of your own eyes?" the young man flicked his wooden stick, and Hetty's body stopped twitching and she was able to speak again.

"You…you…filth…kill…my…" she managed to choke out before collapsing onto the floor again.

"What did you say?" the young man bellowed. Dot and Jackson had drawn back in terror, and were now leaning against a nearby lamp post.

"You called me that name again after I warned you, Muggle! No one disobeyed Lord Voldemort before! So, I'll grant you your last wish. Will you like to be reunited with your darling Cecilia? Yes? Then, you better be on your way, Muggle! You have no value on this planet anymore; you're just a piece of filth! Avada kedavra! The world will be a better place without you lot!"

Another blinding flash of green light shot out from the tip of the young man's wooden stick, and rushed towards Hetty. Before she knew it, it collided squarely with her chest, and Hetty faded into oblivion.

"Obliviate!" the young man waved his wand for the final time at the two men who were still leaning against the wall. A flash of blue light rushed towards them and they collapsed on the floor, their memories wiped clean of the incidents that occurred on that night.

The young man surveyed his surroundings and smirked satisfactorily. With another flick of his wooden stick, the bar returned to its normal state again, and all the occupants seemed to have been just out of a daze. With a tiny "crack", the young man disappeared into the night. No one ever saw him again after that night. And no one knew the truth about the death of Hetty Ferguson and her dear Cecilia; and no one knew why Jackson Todd and Douglas Dotterson had been forgetful old mans who will only sing silly songs and sat everyday at the bar, drinking their lives away from that night onwards. All of this remained a mystery for the villagers of Little Hangleton.

HG/LV/HG/LV/HG/LV/HG/LV

Riddle mansion: October 31, 1980

If one thought that the young man will stop just at that on that night, they were totally wrong. In fact, he had another destination in mind now; his own home. The home where he killed his filthy Muggle grandparents and his good-for-nothing aristocratic father. He had overheard just now that other Muggles had brought over that property. How dare they live in that house of his? He was the rightful owner now, and he will not let another filthy Muggle family set foot in the mansion. He was heading there to get rid of that filthy family now.

With another "Crack", he appeared at the top of the hill leading to the big mansion. Over the years, he could see that the new owner [Hugo, if he had heard correctly from the Muggle woman he had just killed just now] had spent a fortune in decorating that house.

"What a waste! All will be over tonight!"

He made his way towards the large gates leading to the entrance of the large mansion, passed the small fountain of the mermaid and headed up the driveway.

"I'm here! Lord Voldemort has come back at last!" he snarled and hissed into the night air. "He's going to claim what is rightfully his!"

"Dada!"

Hugo Granger looked at the child on his lap, who was shrieking happily with love and pride shining in his eyes. She was just so adorable and beautiful. He and his wife will instantly melt when their daughter requested something from them. They will give it to her, but they were careful not to spoil her too much.

"Yes, honey?" he asked the baby girl, who had learned to pick up a few small words as she turned one. She was a fast learner, they both noticed.

He gazed down at the girl in his lap. He could not believe that this was the same bundle which he and his wife Emma had seen back at Prince Court Medical Centre just a year ago. Little Hermione Granger had grown so much. She was looking more beautiful and growing quickly as the days passed.

"Dada!" she screamed, waving her fists. Hugo chuckled.

"No, honey. No more candy. You had had enough for the evening. Didn't Aunt Molly give you a lot of candies when you played "Fright or Treat" with your cousin Bert just now?"

His daughter looked up at him with puppy-dog eyes.

"No, no, no." he ruffled his daughter's soft silky black hair, planting a soft kiss on her cheeks. Hermione cooed happily at this, and snuggled closer to her father. Hugo wrapped both of his arms tightly around his daughter, and pulled her close to him. She felt so warm and snuggly under his arms.

"To-mo-rrow?" Hermione asked after a few minutes of silence.

"Yes, you may have some candy tomorrow," he said, giving Hermione another kiss.

Just then, his wife emerged from the bathroom, fully dressed in her nightgown.

"You're spoiling her too much, darling," she said, leaning closer to her husband and stroking their daughter's hair gently.

"Yeah, what to do, Emma? I tend to melt when she gave me one of those looks," Hugo said, cuddling Hermione more tightly. The little girl squirmed in delight and reached out and hit her mother playfully on the shoulders.

"Oh, Hermione!" Emma said, smiling at her daughter.

The couple continued to play with their daughter for a few more minutes before Emma announced that it was time for bed.

"Let's go, honey," she said, holding out her arm towards Hermione. The little girl, who was now exhausted and had her eyes half-closed hopped off her father's lap joyfully, and ran towards her mother.

"Up we go!" Emma said, hoisting her daughter onto her shoulders and bounced her little as they made their way up the spiral staircase leading to their bedroom.

"I'll be right up in a sec!" her husband called from below the living room.

"Okay!" Emma called over her shoulders.

They had just reached the first landing when a loud bang sounded from below.

"What…" Emma could hear her husband's footsteps as he ran towards the front door, inspecting the noise.

Bang! There it was again!

"Hugo!" she screamed. "What was that noise?"

"Emma! Run and hide! Keep Hermione safe! There's someone dangerous here! Don't come down! I'll be right back in a few minutes! I need to fetch my riffle from the spare room!" she heard her husband's panicked voice from below.

"Hugo! Be careful!" she screamed. Her heart was pounding so badly, that she had to stop to take a few breaths to calm herself. Little Hermione, who was frightened by that noise started to cry.

"Hush, hush, sweetheart. Everything will be okay. Daddy will be right with us after he take care of the bad guy." She soothed her daughter, pulled her into her arms and started to rock her. Her nerves were beginning to calm as she made her way to their bedroom. She opened the door, walked into the room and sank down onto the bed, with Hermione in her lap.

"Hush darling, hush. Everything will be okay," she said, patting her daughter gently as she tried her best to ignore the terrible noises from downstairs.

She heard the sound of glass breaking, furniture's been thrown about and then, she heard her husband's voice.

"I'm warning you now, leave! I'll not repeat myself again! If you do not leave my property on the count of five, I'll shoot you with this riffle!"

Then all was quiet.

Emma's heart was racing again. What had happened?

She gazed down at Hermione. The little girl was fast asleep, snuggling close to her arms. She quietly laid the sleeping girl down on the bed, and got up from the bed. Hesitantly, she approached the door, and peered downstairs.

What she saw nearly made her scream. One second, Hugo was pointing his riffle at the unknown stranger, and the next moment, there was a blinding flash of green light, as the stranger muttered some strange syllables, and it hit Hugo squarely on the chest. The riffle jerked out of his hands and he collapsed onto the floor. Emma could tell from the hollow look in his eyes and his blank expression that her husband was dead.

She cupped one hand over her mouth, and started to back away. Then, Emma screamed in horror. She dodged back into the room, picked up the still sleeping Hermione, and ran out of the room. She was going to the cellar, she decided.

Unfortunately, she was not quick enough. Just as she was turning the corner leading to the staircase of the cellar, a hooded figure appeared in front of her, blocking her path.

"Where do you think you are going, Muggle?" the figure snarled.

Emma was horrified, but she was also determined to protect her daughter. Little Hermione should not be harmed; she still have a long and wonderful life ahead of her. If she was going to die for the sake of protecting her daughter, she was more than willing to do so. After all, Hugo and she had made a promise together that they will protect and love their daughter until the end of their lives. Now that Hugo was gone, she will be the one in charge now.

"Please, don't hurt my daughter," Emma tried to reason with the stranger after a few seconds of silence. "I can give you all you wanted, but please don't hurt my little girl."

"Are you trying to strike a bargain with me, Muggle? Don't waste your time; it'll not work. I'm afraid that both of you will end up just like your husband, Muggle."

"I don't understand," Emma said. "Who are you?"

"That is not important, Muggle. You don't need to know. Now, stand aside, and let me finish with your daughter first before I deal with you. I will not like to hear her wail after you're gone if I eliminate you first. I can't stand it!" The hooded figure laughed. Emma felt shivers beginning to run down her spine. This was definitely a bloody cold-blooded psychopathic murderer. And she was not letting him take her precious daughter's life away without putting up a fight.

"Now, stand aside, you silly girl, and don't waste my time. I've better things to attend to after this!" the stranger hissed.

Emma threw a protective arm over her daughter.

The stranger glowered at her. "I say stand aside, you fool!"

He lunged forward, trying to grab the child from Emma. Hermione had woken up by now, and was her face was full of confusion. Her gaze traveled from her mother to the hooded stranger in front of her.

"Hush, sweetheart," Emma coaxed her daughter. She had to act fast. The stranger was getting closer.

With one quick movement, Emma took a few steps back, and put Hermione down onto an empty couch at the corner of the corridor. The stranger growled in frustration and leaped forward. He was near the couch in a few seconds, and pointed a wooden stick at Hermione's face.

"Avada kedavra!" Emma heard the same incantation came out of the stranger's mouth and the same jet of green light that killed her husband shot out of the wooden stick and headed towards Hermione.

With one quick move, Emma threw herself in front of Hermione protectively, shielding her from the jet of green light. The green light collided with her chest and Emma collapsed onto the floor, fading into oblivion and nothingness.

On the couch, little Hermione whimpered softly. She was still clueless of what had happened just now. She thought that this was just another Halloween prank that her cousin Alberta and her friends were playing. She thought that her mother will popped up after a few seconds, just to give her another surprise and perhaps offer her a candy? The corners of her mouth curved upwards into a mischievous smile as this final thought entered her head. Maybe her father will come along after a while. After all, he was still downstairs, wasn't he?

Thus, when a hooded figure approached her, little Hermione just gazed at him with puppy-dog eyes. She did not even flinch when the hooded man knelt down beside her, and waved a long wooden stick in her face.

"Ready to go, Muggle baby?" the stranger asked in a low voice. Little Hermione still thought this was still a game, so she smiled and cooed at the stranger.

"Avada kedavra!"

There was a flash of green light yet again. The hooded stranger smirked satisfactorily as the jet of green light collided with the baby's body. However, he did not expect what is going to come next.

Suddenly, he felt weak and tired. His wand fall out of his grip and he begin to fall, fall, fall, deep, deep, deep, and away, and away, and away.

A puff of black smoke evaporated into the air, glided towards the open window, and disappeared into the night air.

Then, a great explosion could be heard, as the Riddle mansion started to crumble and burned. Green smoke emerged from the doors. And there was little Hermione too, but that poor girl had no idea of what is to become of her from now onwards.

She had no idea that she was now an orphan and she had no idea how famous she will be in the future. Through the terrible fire, little Hermione just slept through peacefully without waking.

She did not even stir when a large warm hand picked her up gently, wrapped her up in a bundle and hoisted her up onto a flying bike. She did not even woke up when she was brought and left in front of her new home, with a long envelope safely tucked into her blanket. She just slept peacefully, as though this was another ordinary night of Halloween full of surprises and sweet dreams.

A smile or two cracked on her lips when she dreamt of her father and mother, beautiful toys and colorful candies wrapped in silver paper. She whimpered softly into her blanket and continued to doze peacefully.

Miles and miles away, in a world foreign to ordinary folks, known as the wizzarding world, talk was going on, and a great celebration was taking place. Every street and shop in the wizzarding world was decorated with colourful banners, celebrating their victory. All of the wizzarding community was busy toasting one another in their pubs and bars now.

Little Hermione had no idea as all of the magical people lifted their wine glasses, and murmured in a chorus:

"To Ms. Hermione Jean Granger: the girl who lived."

HG/LV/HG/LV/HG/LV/HG/LV

^^ There! I just turned the whole story around. Now it's Hermione's story instead, lol. XD.  
^^ Please read and review and tell me how you liked it!

^^ Next chapter will be up soon, and I promised that it won't be long!

~~ Hermione Hean Fui ~~


	4. Chapter 4 LIFE AT WOOLS ORPHANAGE

Author's note:

Hey! Here's another new chapter. Let me know how you liked it. Enjoy!

Special thanks to those who have reviewed. You guys just keep me going!

Take note that Hermione/Voldemort interactions will only take place at the middle of the story. In the following few chapters, I'll illustrate Hermione's earlier school life up until the point where she meets her enemy. I hope all of you will be patient and bear with me. I try to write it this way, so that you will get to understand the plot better, and get to see how the story line unfolds. I think it is a more realistic way of writing instead of jumping straight ahead to the main part of the story. Hope all of you are comfortable with this writing style. And thereby, let's begin!

Cheers!

HG/LV/HG/LV/HG/LV/HG/LV

Chapter 4: Life at Wool's Orphanage

September 19, 1985

"Wake up"

Hermione rolled over onto her back and hugged her bolster tightly. Was it morning already? She felt as though she had just closed her eyes for a minute.

"Ah, time flies!" the little girl of six mumbled to herself, still refusing to open her eyes.

Through the tiny crack of the small and only window in the room, sunlight was streaming in, warming the little girl's face instantly. She smiled but still refused to open her eyes. She will just ignore that call for just a bit more, she decided. The dream was so sweet and wonderful. She wished she could remain in dreamland forever, and never wake up again. How she longed to see the smiling faces of the man and woman in her dreams again. They looked like her, she noticed. The woman had the same warm hazel eyes and smooth face as Hermione, and the man was tall, broad-shouldered and has sleek black hair which just fitted him neatly. Both of them smiled up at her. Sometimes, Hermione will find herself smiling back at them in the dream. They may even offer her a candy or two sometimes in the dreams. She always has the same dream, she noticed. If she was lucky, this dream will end there, nice and warm and comforting. On other occasions, if she was unlucky or had a bad day, the dream will always turned into something nasty; something that will make her jerk awake in the middle of the night, and cried her eyes out.

In those dreams, she will dream of the same man and woman, but there was also another person; a hooded figure. The figure will mutter something which Hermione could not understand and than a blinding flash of green light will shot out of a stick he was waving. Both the man and woman will crumple to the floor, their eyes hollow and empty. Hermione will jerk awake then, crying and sobbing into her pillow. Sometimes, the dream was so terrible that it woke up the occupants of the whole floor in which she slept in. The matron will then enter her room, scolded her or give her a spank or two before backing out of her room and coaxing the other children to go to bed. Then, little Hermione will be severely punished in the morning.

It seemed that this was also one of those gloomy mornings. Hermione rolled over and lie on her stomach, and yawn. She had another bad dream again, and the matron had given her a long lecture until late into the night. No wonder she felt so tired and exhausted. As soon as she hit the bed after returning from the matron's office, she had immediately drifted off to sleep. And now, the matron was outside her door, knocking and knocking to wake her up.

But she just had that awesome dream again; the one with the man and woman smiling up at her warmly. She wanted to enjoy this moment, savoring the dream for just a bit more. Couldn't Mrs. Cole be more understanding and considerate sometimes, Hermione wondered. She sighed, and did not make an attempt to get up from her bed.

"Granger! I say it's time to wake up!"

Oh, and there goes Mrs. Cole again, Hermione mused to herself. Couldn't that woman just leave her alone for a second?

"I'm not going to repeat my order for a third time, girl!"

There was another harsh rap on the door.

"I'm coming, Mrs. Cole," Hermione said lazily, stretching and yawning before kicking off the covers of her bed and sitting up. She swung her tiny legs over the edge of the small cot in which she slept in, and rummaged in the small wardrobe at the far corner of the room for a fresh set of clothes. It was not much at all, Hermione noted sadly. She always got the unwanted stuff from the other children. She had no new clothes, and no new shoes to wear. Mrs. Cole had made sure that Hermione gets all the bad things first before giving the rest, which were slightly in better condition to the other children. The matron hated her, Hermione could tell, and she did not know why. She had never done anything wrong to offend her at all; not that she ever remembered. She was an obedient and quiet little girl, who lived her life as an orphan just like the other children in the house.

Tap. Tap. Tap.

There goes Mrs. Cole again.

"Granger, if you are not out in five minutes, I'm going to increase your chores for today as punishment," Mrs. Cole's voice was not too please already, it seemed.

"Fine," she shouted back at the matron through the closed door. "Whatever. I'm dressing up now, Mrs. Cole. If you want to give me extra punishment, I don't mind. Just go ahead; I'm already used to it."

She heard a disapproving sniff as the matron walked away, her high heels making clicking noises as she walked away from the corridor.

Hermione took a deep breath, and took out a tattered blue dress and a pair of white stockings, which had several holes in them. She donned these on quickly, looked at her reflection in the small mirror which was hanging on the small dresser beside her bed, and smiled. She combed her hair, and tied it neatly in a ponytail.

Everyone will be surprised how well she managed to take care of herself. At six, Hermione was quite a pretty little thing; with her beautiful figure which just matched her age and height. She was not considered short at all. Throughout the years, she had learned to be independent, and to be honest with herself, Hermione thought that she was the most mature girl of her age in the orphanage, for no one speaks like her, and no one had ever managed to take care of themselves and keep a neat little room just like her. She was secretly proud of this.

After checking her reflection in the mirror for another time, Hermione straightened up, and passed a hand across her forehead. Her little fingers traced the funny-looking mark on her forehead; a lightning bolt shaped scar. She had wondered how she ever got that scar, and that was the first question she asked the matron of the orphanage when she was able to speak in full sentences at the age of two.

"You got it in the car crash which killed your parents," Mrs. Cole snapped angrily at her. Hermione could tell that the matron had held a grudge towards her from day one. As a baby, she remembered being spanked all the time when she was too noisy and no one will come to her defence when she was being bullied by other children. All of the other workers in the orphanage seemed to follow Mrs. Cole's steps and treated her badly.

"And don't ever ask questions, understand?" Mrs. Cole had snapped at her back again.

Don't ask questions; that were the first rule which Hermione had to abide in order to live a peaceful and quiet life at this horrible grey building known as Wools Orphanage. She could not believed it that she had lived here for six miserable years.

As for her parents, she could not even remember a single thing about them, and she thought that this was funny. She did not even remember getting into an accident and did not even remember who had brought her to this miserable and insufferable place called home. Hermione planned to get out of here as soon as possible; she will have to study harder, she gathered, earn enough money to support herself, graduate with a distinction and then live her own life happily ever after. It is sometimes how these thought entered her six-year-old brains, she sometimes mused. If one were to have an idle chat with her, she was sure that they will be surprised by what she was able to tell them.

Hermione smiled at this. She had loved books the moment she set eyes on them. She remembered the first time she touched a book; it was a small book with pictures of cartoon characters like Donald Duck and Mickey Mouse all over it. Excitement had bubbled in her, and she could not stop once she was able to read. At the age of three, Hermione was able to read all the Enid Blyton books available in the library of the orphanage, and at the age of five, she had started on Science fiction and thick novels for teenagers. Mrs. Cole was slightly pissed off with her, and not to mention a little surprise too as Hermione sat at the windowsill of the library when she had completed all her daily chores, thumbing through a large and thick book. Hermione felt secretly proud of herself. To her, knowledge was unlimited, and she will explore it as long as she was able to. She had no desire to stop there. She figured that she will go on and read encyclopedias next.

Her spirits lifted a little as these wonderful thought entered her mind, draining off the unhappy ones. She hummed a nursery rhyme softly as she made her bed. She folded the covers neatly, arranged her pillows and straightened the bedsheets. Then, she drew the curtains apart and threw open the small window above the headboard of the bed. The room will not be stuffy when she returned, she gathered. She always cleans her own room. She got a room to herself since she started to have those terrible nightmares. Mrs. Cole was afraid that she will end up waking up the whole orphanage if she shared a room in the main quarters with the other children. So, Hermione get this small room to herself since then and had to clean it herself. She did not mind at all; in fact, she enjoyed this privacy. She could retire to her own thoughts and do everything she wished once she was in the room. The others will not bother her, for they have much better things to do.

Hermione smiled softly and continued to hum as she made her way out of her room. She stepped out into the corridor, and made for the dining room downstairs. The morning was gloomy. Clouds were all over the sky, and a chilly wind was blowing.

Hermione inhaled deeply. The air outside was rather hazy today, she gathered. She coughed a little as dust entered her nostrils. She wished that the house will not be too stuffy as usual. Mrs. Cole never bothers to open the windows at all. Stenches reached her sense of smell every time she walked around the house. My, my, the woman certainly need to do so cleaning, Hermione mused.

As she entered the dining room, she noticed that it was already packed with other children. Most of them have finished their breakfast by now, and was now lining up to wash their hands by a basin at the far end of the small and stuffy dining room.

"Late again, eh?" Marcus, a big boy who was ten years old teased her as he wiped his hands on his pants.

He began to walk towards her, in a threatening manner which Hermione had already gotten used too. Marcus was really not a problem for her. At the age of ten, he had a round face, a large nose which made him look out of place and curly brown hair. He was slightly taller than Hermione, and is considered as the orphanage's second big bully. He had a few friends who would follow him around wherever he went and listened to his every order. The other children dare not disobey him and they just followed his instructions blindly.

Hermione pursed her lips in disgust, and gave Marcus a glare. She doubted that it will scare him away, but at least it is worth a try, she gathered. After all, her tactics in tackling this big bully were sometimes successful.

Marcus had advanced upon Hermione now, and was about to close the gap between them when Hermione extended her hand and gave his shoulders a hard push. Taken by surprise, Marcus staggered for a moment, trying to maintain his balance. Anger and hatred was written all over his face as he managed to pull himself together and straightened up.

"That's none of your business, Marcus," Hermione snapped back at him angrily. Every morning, Marcus will find something to irritate her, and Hermione had to snap at him for quite some time until he finally backed away.

She was proud that she still managed to handle Marcus. However, she was not so confident with Johnson and his gang. Johnson was the leader of all the boys of the orphanage, it seemed. He had a round face, watery blue eyes, and a large head full of blond hair which made him look like a pig in a wig. Often, when Marcus found that he was on the losing end, he will team with Johnson, and both the boys will start bullying Hermione. She was irritated by this, and had tried to stop them, but most of the time; her attempts were not successful if Johnson and his stupid good-for-nothing gang were involved.

"Oh, is that so?" Marcus now asked in a teasing voice, jolting Hermione out of her thoughts. "Fine with me. I just want to care about a friend and you so rudely turned a sour face and snap rudely at me. Is that the way to treat a friend, Her-Mio-Ne?"

"Whatever, Marcus," Hermione let out an exasperated sigh, before carefully stepping around Marcus and walked past him. She figured that she was not going to waste her time arguing with that boy. She had other better things to do.

Luck was on her side this time, as Marcus planned to let her go this time and did not continue to taunt her. The day passed smoothly for Hermione. She scrubbed the bathroom floors, cleaned all the rooms in the orphanage, mowed the lawn, washed the dishes and dried the laundry. It was surprising that all of this was managed by such a young girl of six years old. Hermione felt secretly proud of herself.

As Hermione ate her breakfast which consisted of cereal and cornflakes, she could not help wondering about a few peculiar events which had happened to her. These events often occur whenever she was upset or when she was bullied by Marcus. Mrs. Cole will often get suspicious, and give her more punishment whenever these events occur. Now, as she contemplated how to handle the problem of Marcus and his gang [just in case they planned to go after her again on today], she thought of those weird events again, and it made her more and more curious.

Once, when she was five, Marcus and Johnson had chased her around the orphanage, and taunt her with nasty comments. She ran and ran as fast as her small legs could take her, but it was not too far when the boys overtook her and knocked her onto the ground. She had tried to push them away, but to no avail. Marcus started to pull her hair roughly, while Johnson started to scratch her face with his long and dirty nails. Hermione was scared; she started to tremble. There was no one around to help her, she noticed. All the other children were playing somewhere else, and Mrs. Cole was no where to be seen. Hermione wished that she was stronger back then. She could perhaps push the two big boys away. It was then that something happened. It happened so quickly before her own eyes that Hermione find it hard to believe what she saw. One moment, Marcus was still holding on to her hair, and Johnson was just starting to dig his nails into her skin. The next moment, both of them leapt back, clutching their hands. Hermione saw that deep gashes had appeared on their hands. The two boys screamed, and Mrs. Cole ran out of the orphanage.

Johnson and Marcus blamed Hermione for the incident of course, and Hermione tried to defend herself. "Mrs., Cole, I didn't do anything. It just happened like that," she tried, but the matron did not listen to her. "Nonsense! Don't give me that load of rubbish! See me in my office for detention tonight!" And that was how Hermione ended up getting punished for the first time in her life.

The punishment increased as the weeks past, as more weird events occur. Hermione had managed to turn Rebecca Hudson's hair from brown to blue when she accidentally touched it one day, as Rebecca was laughing about Hermione's black hair, which had been badly cut by Mrs. Cole. Rebecca had shrieked in horror, and ran to report this to Mrs. Cole. This earned Hermione a week in the cellar of the orphanage and when she came out, she found out that Rebecca had been transferred to another block of the orphanage as she was too scared to live under the same roof as Hermione. She tried to find the girl and apologise, but it was no use. From that day onwards, all the children of the orphanage were scared of her. Even Marilyn Wonda, who sometimes smiled at Hermione averted eye contact and will often run off when Hermione was near. That was when her miserable life at the orphanage began.

On another occasion, Hermione had managed to set the drawing room on fire, after Mrs. Cole spanked her and accused her of stealing cheesecake from the kitchen. Hermione was very angry, and had stomped into the drawing room. It was then that the whole place started to burst into flames. It was lucky that the firemen arrived on time to put out the fire. Hermione was given three months detention, where she cleaned the whole orphanage with the daily help, Martha. Mrs. Cole had called her a freak by then, and Hermione could not stand it at first. She figured that she will have to get use to it.

She had gone to the library last year to do some research on her problem, but her attempts were fruitless. The librarian of the public library had though Hermione was a crazy little girl, and looked at her disbelievingly when Hermione asked her about some medical and psychological journals. She shook her head, and immediately shooed her out of the library. Hermione did not blame the librarian after all; not much people knew her ability and she was not a person who liked to show off.

"Are you done yet?" Mrs. Cole's snappish voice brought her out of her musings. "Don't waste your time, girl! Get to work! It's already past ten!"

Hermione sighed, finished up the remains of her cereal, and started her daily chores, humming softly to herself. She pushed the thoughts just now to the back of her mind; there was no reason to spoil her mood wondering about things which were unexplained and made her sad, she figured. She will think about all this later.

After she completed her final chore for the day, Hermione felt exhausted. She headed for her room, takes a shower and munched on some leftover before dropping down on her bed.

She closed her eyes, and let her thoughts wander on their own accord. Today was no ordinary day; it was her special day. It was her sixth birthday, but she doubted that anyone will care about it. For everyone else, this was just an ordinary day. However, for Hermione, it represented something special to her. But sad to say, no one ever cared about it; it was although she was forgotten in this world and do not exist at all. Sometimes, the feeling was too unbearable. Hermione felt a sense of lineless overtook her every time she looked back at her miserable years in the orphanage. She hoped that all of this will change soon; she could not bear living like this for the rest of her life.

Although she had never had a birthday party in her life before and never even received any presents from all the members 'though she doubted that Mrs. Cole will be so generous towards her], she still felt contented. At least she was able to live her, rather than stayed on the streets.

Just as the past few years, she will sit on her bed, gazing out at the setting sun and across the horizon, and started to daydream. She will sit there until midnight, observing the night sky and watching the starry sky from the crack in her window if the night was not too cloudy. She will then utter a silent prayer and asked the Lord to bless her parents, wherever their souls are at the moment. The seconds will tick by, and as the clock struck midnight, she will wish herself a happy birthday and go to bed, feeling pleased with herself.

And this was how her life in the orphanage was in the few more years to come. However, little did Hermione know that her life will change forever a few years from now. She will no longer be the carefree and excited little girl as she was now. She was clueless about what was installed for her miles and miles away, in the wizzarding world.

HG/LV/HG/LV/HG/LV/HG/LV

The dark forests of Albania: September 19, 1985

While little Hermione sat on her bed, watching the starry night sky and counting the seconds to her sixth birthday, our story moved to the dark forests of Albania, where someone else was watching the night sky too in solitude.

The tall cloaked figure was leaning against a tree, gazing up into the night sky, where the moon emitted a beautiful glow and its reflection was clearly seen on the surface of a small lake, flowing diagonally across the path leading into a small clearing behind the trees. For a moment, the figure just stood there, watching the night sky and shifting his foot agitatedly. He seemed to contemplate something, as he creased his brows in concentration and his face was screwed up in a serious look.

Finally, the figure, having made his decision, turned abruptly, and walked towards the small clearing. The forest was so quiet now. Not even the calls of werewolves or the echoing hooves of centaurs could be heard. The figure move swiftly across the paths, picking his way cautiously and stepping over fallen tree trunks. Twigs crunched under his feet and some tiny branches snapped under his foot. The leaves of the trees rustled slightly as the cold night wind caressed them.

This figure was hardly easy to describe, if you were to ask anyone about him. However, most will have a common agreement about his features; they were deformed. The figure was a man of mid-forties, who was balding slightly, He was thin and broad-shouldered, but the rest of his face was deformed. He had two sunken holes for eyes, where the pupils were crimson if one were to look closely at it; slits for nostrils and a mouth with lips which were too thin. He had pale skin and long, thin spidery fingers, which made him look like a deformed waxed doll with a snake-like appearance.

The figure in question continued to walk until he reached the clearing. He stepped out of the trees, and reached into his pockets to produce a rusty key. He fitted the key into the big lock on the front door of the small cottage, with a large snake engraved on it, and muttered something under his breath. With a click, the door swung open, and he stepped into his leaving quarters, closing the door gently behind him.

"Wormtail?" he called out as he stepped into the long hallway, which was lit by candles.

Scurrying footsteps could be heard as another man, which was smaller moved into the room to join him.

"Yes, my lord?" he asked, bowing before the snake-like figure.

"I've made my decision," the snake-like man said. "And my answer is yes. Tell Lucius to gather all of our men. We'll have our last meeting after this. We'll have no more secret meetings from now onwards. It's time we gather our forces and emerge once into the wizzarding world."

"Yes, my lord. Glad to hear that," the man called Worm tail said, bowing again in front of the snake-like man.

"Now, you should go and get the necessary ingredients for my resurrection, Wormtail. I'm starting to get weaker. Hurry!" the snake-like man said, stumbling slightly as he said the last word.

"Yes, my lord," Wormtail said, hurrying out of the room.

Five minutes later, Wormtail returned, carrying a large cauldron with various ingredients in them. The snake-like man had turned quite white by now, and he was trembling slightly. He could feel the strength leaving his body as he struggled to his feet and followed Wormtail into the backyard.

"Take my arm, Wormtail," the snake-like man said in a raspy voice. He gazed up into the night sky. He needs to hurry, he gathered. All of this must be done before midnight. He will be lost forever and fade into nothingness if this did not work out well. He figured that he had to give it one last try. After all, if he was indeed fading into nothingness, he was not worried at all. He swill manages to survive and return another day, he gathered. After all, seven valuable treasures, which were hidden in a safe place will ensure his immortality. He smirked at this comforting thought. However, he could not avoid the nervous feeling in the pit of his stomach now. If he really failed, will all his plans be destroyed? Will he be eliminated from the world forever? After all, he was frightened to underestimate the madness that magic could sometimes create. Just like the time six years ago, where he had lost, lost dearly to say the least. And worse of all, he had lost to a filthy little Muggle baby.

"My lord?" a timid whimper came from beside him, making the snake-like man pulls out of his thoughts instantly. "Shall we go?"

"Yes," he said, in a voice which he hoped was not too weak. "Take my arm."

He will not let Wormtail detect the sense of fear in him. Oh no, he was not going to show any weakness in front of anyone. He was Lord Voldemort after all, and Lord Voldemort will never ever be weak.

Meanwhile, Wormtail obeyed. Pulling the large cauldron under one arm, he took the snake-like man's arm, and closed his eyes.

Both figures turned on the spot and vanished into the night.

HG/LV/HG/LV/HG/LV/HG/LV

Little Hangleton: September 19, 1985

The snake-like man and Wormtail landed with a thud in the graveyard behind the church. Wormtail set down the ingredients and the cauldron on the floor, and started to work. The snake-like man had sunk down on his knees, and was now massaging his temples. His head was beginning to throb painfully again, and he felt exhausted after the apparation.

"Wormtail do hurry!" he said, "We'll running out of time."

He hissed in pain as he felt his energy draining away from him.

"Yes, master," Wormtail said. He had lit a fire under the cauldron, and was now adding the ingredients into the cauldron based on a tiny scrap of parchment which he held in his hands.

He must work fast, he figured. His master will kill him if his plan failed this time.

Wormtail started to stir the mixture after adding a few weird-looking herbs into the cauldron.

"Almost there, master, almost there," he murmured.

"Hurry up you fool!" his master's response was nothing more than a faint hiss. "I'm getting weaker!"

Wormtail uncorked the final bottle which he had bought, and tipped the entire contents into the cauldron. "There, a bottle of unicorn blood," he muttered as the concoction begin to sizzle and changed from a mucky brown to silvery blue.

Then, Wormtail took out his wand, pointed it at a large tombstone which was a few feet away from them, and muttered an incantation.

The tombstone burst into millions of pieces, and Wormtail waved his wand again, drawing something out of the ground.

"Master, hurry!" he called out.

With shaky footsteps, the snake-like man stood up and stepped into the cauldron, as his body started to melt away.

Wormtail straightened up, with a tiny handkerchief in his hands, and stepped to face the cauldron. His master was begun to melt away, and he continued the ritual.

"This will be fine," he keep on ensuring himself. He was not going to fail his master, for he knew the consequences were too high a price to pay for.

"Continue," the snake-like man hissed. "Let my body melt completely first, and the solution will turn black. Then, you can begin…" his voice was fading away. "Remember, Wormtail…Don't…fail…me…"

And then, a puff of smoke emerged from the cauldron, followed by a loud hissing sound. Then, all was gone and the potion turned black. The snake-like man was no longer seen in the cauldron.

Drawing a shaky breath, Wormtail knelt down so that he was leveled with the cauldron and opened the carefully wrapped bundle in the handkerchief which he held. He dumped the contents into the cauldron, and waved his wand over it.

"Bone and flesh of the father, unknowingly taken,

You will resurrect your son and restore his body."

There was a puff of smoke, and the liquid in the cauldron turned purple. It sizzled for a while, and then, all was still.

Wormtail heaved a deep sigh, and then took a step backwards. He took out a small dagger and placed the tip of it on his right forearm. His hands were shaking badly now.

Closing his eyes, he gritted his teeth and stabbed his arm with the dagger. He suppressed a scream as blood started to drip from the deep cut which he had made. Then, he stabbed his arm for the second time, making the cut deeper. He leaned into the cauldron, and placed his injured hand above the cauldron, so that his blood dripped into the purple liquid.

With shaking hands, he raised his wand using his uninjured hand over the cauldron.

"Blood of the servant, willing given,

You will strengthen your master and mend his soul."

There was another puff, and steam started to rose from the cauldron. The liquid was now turning a shade of bright red.

Finally, Wormtail reached into his robe pocket, producing a tiny box. He opens it, and took out a small crystalball from it. He pointed his wand at the crystalball, and it shattered into pieces. He let the pieces fall into the cauldron before waving his wand over it again.

"Time and destiny, unknowingly killed and frozen,

You will alter the past and shape the future

By correcting the flaws present

Thereby fulfilling the prophecy

Though reversing its effects.

And therefore,

The dark lord is resurrected

And the dark times arises again…"

As the final words came out of his mouth, there was another puff of smoke and the steam begin to rose higher and higher, and finally, the liquid in the cauldron turned green.

Slowly, the steam evaporated from the cauldron, and a form was beginning to take shape at the bottom of the cauldron. It grew taller and taller, bigger and bigger, making the green liquid shimmered. Finally, a full form was visible, and with another puff of green smoke, all the liquid in the cauldron disappeared, leaving in its place a man. A very handsome young man indeed, who was in his forties.

"Wormtail!"

"M…master, we…made it…" Wormtail who was now lying on the floor weakly stood up and walked towards the cauldron. He extended a trembling hand and helped the young man out of the cauldron.

"Ah, finally," there was a delighted hiss as the young man stepped out of the cauldron, flexing his muscles and feeling his face.

"Robe me," he ordered. Wormtail weakly waved his wand, producing a set of emerald green robes, which the man slipped on.

"Wormtail, you've done well and will be rewarded."

Wormtail managed a weak smile and bowed down at the young man gratefully.

"Hold out your hand," the young man ordered, and Wormtail obediently hold out his injured hand, which was now bleeding badly.

With a flick of his wand, the young man made Wormtail's injured hand disappeared, and with another casual flick, Wormtail had a silver arm, which glowed beautifully as the moonlight reflected on it.

"Thank you, master. Thank you," Wormtail said, with tears in his eyes. He looked down at his hands, and smiled satisfactorily.

"Now, Lord Voldemort is back, and will be in power again in no time. Gather our men, Wormtail, and we shall plan our next steps!  
"

The young man smirked satisfactorily, as Wormtail nodded, rolled up the sleeves of his left hand, and pressed a mark on his forearm, which turned dark instantly.

"Lord Voldemort is back!" the young man hissed into the night sky, as popping sounds filled the entire graveyard. Half a minute later, hooded figures gathered around the young man and formed a circle.

HG/LV/HG/LV/HG/LV/HG/LV

Three hundred miles away, little Hermione Granger, who had just fallen into a light sleep woke up with a start. She saw a blinding flash of green light and heard screams before she collapsed onto her bed, clutching her forehead, and crying out in pain.

She felt a throbbing pain as the scar on her forehead burned. Her head was hurting so badly; she felt as though her head was going to burst open at any moment.

"Stand aside, you silly girl! Stand aside!"

What was that, she wondered.

"Avada kedavra!"

She shuddered as a cold high-pitched laughter rang through her head.

She bit down on her lower lip, breathing heavily and tried not to scream. She wills woke the whole orphanage up if she screamed, she gathered.

"What was wrong with me?" she wondered, as a certain screaming begins in her head.

"Stop!" she hissed in pain.

The pain continued for a while, and then suddenly, it ceased abruptly. She laid there, she hands still on her scar. This had never happened before, she figured. What was all this about?

By now, the voice in her head was gone, and she felt very tired all of a sudden. She pulled the covers up to her head, and slipped under them.

"What was that?" she kept on muttering to herself, massaging her temples at the same time. She traced the scar on her forehead lightly with her middle finger.

However, she was too overcome with exhaustion now that she falls asleep right away a few minutes later. No doubt the events of the day had tired her out.

The last thing she thought of was: "Maybe I'm too tired," the little girl thought as she drifted off into a deep and dreamless sleep.

HG/LV/HG/LV/HG/LV/HG/LV

^^ There! Finally done! Please read and review!

^^ Next chapter will be up soon!

~~ Hermione Hean Fui ~~


	5. Chapter 5 THE LOCKET

Author's note:

Hello there! Chapter 5 is up! Please read and review. Enjoy!

Special thanks to those who reviewed once again.

Review replies:

Hermione – The Dark Lady: Haha. I'm getting to that in this chapter actually, and hope you'll like it. Hermione definitely is like Harry, but I'll add other special characteristics which made her earlier life played out just like Voldemort. So, to put it simple, Hermione will be half on the light side and half on the dark side. I think that this will be more interesting. Hope you liked it. Mind you, I'm not suggesting that Hermione will do bad things and turned evil. It is not in her character after all. Thanks for your review.

Kate Elizabeth Black: Oh yes, Harry and Ron are definitely going to play a part in this story. Yes, they will still be friends with Hermione. The story will be no fun without them, but you have to wait for a few more chapters before they come into the story. Hope you'll be patient, and thanks for your review.

And now, on with the story!

HG/LV/HG/LV/HG/LV/HG/LV

Chapter 5: The Locket

More than three years have passed since the night of Hermione's sixth birthday, where her scar started to burn for the first time in her life. It had never happened again after that, and Hermione, who was now busy attending primary school with all the other children in the orphanage do not have the time to give it much thought. It was probably nothing, she reasoned. After all, she had not suffered that kind of terrible pain again. Her nightmares were also decreasing now; she would often go to bed with a carefree mind and relaxed body, as she was exhausted after coming back from school and after completing her daily chores.

Mrs. Cole's attitude towards Hermione had changed a little too. The peculiar happenings had stopped happening for quite some time now, and this was perhaps the reason why Mrs. Cole was much nicer towards Hermione now. She would seldom snap at her. Hermione was glad about it. However, she could not help noticing that Mrs. Cole still kept a close watch on her, and always approached her with a guarded look. Hermione wondered about the matron's unexplained attitude towards her sometimes. Why was Mrs. Cole acted as though Hermione was someone dangerous and weird?

The other children had also started to talk to Hermione, but they were not very friendly. Their conversation mostly consists of small talk about school work and bored topics such as commenting on the weather and etc. She was getting rather bored of them, but at the same time, Hermione felt happy that they were not as afraid of her as the days passed.

Marcus and Johnson had been adopted by two rich couples two months ago, and the orphanage was quieter now without the two big bullies running around with their gang. Hermione was also glad about this; no longer would she endure their taunts and teasing and no longer would she be chased around and bullied by them. As the boys left, the bullying spirit left along with them in the orphanage. All the other children in the orphanage who were previously part of their gang resorted to their ordinary life; they apologized to all the victims of their previous bullying and made up for it. Some of them even approached Hermione, aapologised to her and suggested that they be friends with each other. Hermione accepted this happily; she was one who can forgive them easily.

At school, Hermione was at the top of her class, and used to be called the clever little girl of her age. All her teachers liked her very much and always praised her for her wonderful grades. After school, Hermione will be approached by other students who were weaker than her. They will ask her about the things which they did not understand, and Hermione will help them out happily. She will always have a smile on her face when they thanked her and walked back to the orphanage, her spirits lifting. To her, knowledge should be shared with others; she was more than willing to help out her weaker classmates. They liked her very much, and will always treat her as their role model.

Nevertheless, Hermione felt a bit lonely sometimes. No one seemed to understand her feelings; there was no one to share her thoughts and ideas with. Most of the other children were too small to understand her mature thoughts. She mused at this thought they will just nodded when she tried to explain her views about the world and her ideas to them; they probably had no idea about what she was talking about. Sometimes as she sat on her bed, reading late into the night to cure her boredom. Whenever she felt depressed, she would immerse herself into reading philosophical books and gazing out at the night starry sky if the night was beautiful and clear.

To put it simply, all was well for Hermione for the time being, and she felt contented with her life save the loneliness she felt. She will deal with the problem later, she decided. She will perhaps find more friends when she entered upper grade a year from now.

However, Hermione had no idea that a big change was going to come soon. And the events on a wonderful warm and sunny Sunday in mid July 1990 made everything worse.

It was the second week of the summer holidays, and the orphanage had organized a camping trip to the seaside for all the children as a get away treat. All the children were so excited about it. Hermione had never gone to the seaside before, and she could not wait to see it. She had read about the beautiful beaches in the United Kingdom and seen wonderful pictures of them in various books only. She hoped that the real seaside will be as splendid as the books had illustrated them to be.

According to Mrs. Cole, it had become a tradition over the past fifty years, and they are sticking to it. The children of the orphanage who had turned nine and above were the ones to visit the seaside, Mrs. Cole informed them. She assured them that they will like the place, as it was very nice. Hermione's eyes lit up when she heard this. Oh, how she longed to go visit somewhere nice. At last, she was going to the seaside, which she hoped was as nice as what she thought it to be. It was definitely going to be an enjoyable day, Hermione decided.

After a breakfast of eggs and bacon, the group which consisted of twenty children including Hermione, and Mrs. Cole set out towards the seaside. According to Mrs. Cole, the place was not far from the orphanage. It was just a few feet away from the dark woods behind the orphanage.

Excited chatter broke out amongst the children. Hermione could see an excited look plastered on every small face. She felt excited too, as she skipped along with the other children, with Mrs. Cole leading the line.

"And we'll be right there in ten minutes time, children," Mrs. Cole announced, after the group had crossed through the winding paths of the dark woods. Excited cheers could be heard as all the other children cried out in joy.

And sure enough, as they walked farther away from the woods, Hermione smelled the fresh scent of salt and a gust of cool breeze caressed her cheeks.

"Ah, it is the seaside!" she chirped happily to herself, gazing around her. The ground beneath their foot had become softer now, and the sand was finer in texture. She could hear swishing sounds ahead of her. Was it the waves, lapping against the shore, she wonder. She will find out soon enough, she gathered.

"We're here, children!" Mrs. Cole announced, as a beautiful sandy beach came into view. The sea water was crystal blue, and all the children gazed at it in awe. Hermione took in a deep breath, and closed her eyes. It was so beautiful and breathtaking.

The water lapped against beautiful rocks of various shapes. Larger boulders lined the shore, forming a beautiful pattern. The sand was golden and fine and soft under the children's foot. Hermione kicked off her small sandals, and started to walk the shore, admiring the beauty that Mother Nature had created. She loved the seaside, she decided. Maybe she will build a home near the seaside in the future, she thought dreamily as she gazed into the distance.

Seashells littered the beach. Waves hit the rocks, making them look more beautiful if one looked at it closely. The jagged edges of large boulders were washed clean by the sea water as it lapped against them as waves splashed onto them. Mrs. Cole's voice jolted Hermione out of her thoughts. The sudden calmness she felt disappeared quickly. Sighing, she tuned into Mrs. Cole's instructions once more.

"Now, children. Listen very carefully. We'll be exploring a cave across the beach. It's on an island over there," she said, pointing to a large rock on the opposite side of the beach in the distance. "The island is rather small, but the view is very nice there. Every year, children from previous times visited the place before. It is a very historical place, which existed hundreds of years ago. There, one can explore a small sea cave there and enjoy the beautiful scenery on the island. We'll be going there first. Then, we'll come back here and camp for the night before returning to the orphanage the next morning."

"Okay, Mrs. Cole!" all the children chorused in excitement. Hermione's stomach bubbled up with excitement. An island! How wonderful. Will it be like "Treasure Island" which she had read before? Her eyes sparkled in excitement as she turned and followed the group of children who was lead by Mrs. Cole to the edge of the waters.

"If all of you will wait here, I'll call the gentleman who agreed to bring us across on his rowing boat," Mrs. Cole said, just as a toothless old man appeared, dragging something behind him.

"There's no need, Mrs. Cole. I'm here," the old gentleman said in a raspy voice.

"Ah, Mr. Ros. Right on time, I see," Mrs. Cole nodded curtly at the old gentleman, who gave her a half smile.

He dragged the rowing boat to the edge of the water, and straightened up. "Now, we'll need two trips, as the boat can only hold ten people," he stated in the same raspy voice.

"Fine," Mrs. Cole said. "I'll stay here while you take the first group over first, Mr. Ros. You can come back for us later."

"Fine with me," Mr. Ros muttered, getting into his rowing boat. "Now, who will go first?"

Mrs. Cole surveyed the group of children before her. All of them have eager looks on their faces and were chatting animatedly among themselves.

"I'll decide for them, since I'm the matron," Mrs. Cole said finally, seeing that all the children now had an unsure look on their faces when Mr. Ros beckoned them forward into his boat.

Mr. Ros just nodded curtly before looking away into the distance.

"Amelia, Matthew, Derrick, Paula, Gwen, Winnie, Jonathan, Robert and Hermione," Mrs. Cole said in her usual authoritative voice, "the nine of you go first. Follow Mr. Ros and wait for me and the others at the other side. You may wander off just a bit if you like, but make sure to stick together. Don't get too far; the waves are dangerous and you might get lost. I'll be joining all of you soon, and we'll explore the sea cave together. Am I clear?"

All the nine children nodded. Hermione got into the boat behind Amelia and Derrick and stood there nervously.

"Now, hold on to the sides of the boat tightly," Mr. Ros instructed. "Ready?"

Without giving them time to answer, Mr. Ros put both oars into the water, and started to pedal.

"Follow me, children," he said, handing each of them a small oar. "Put your oars into the water and pedal."

All of them obeyed. Hermione dipped her oars into the water, and started to pedal. Cold water touched her skin; making shivers ran out her whole body. Was the water that cold even in summer, she wondered.

Something about this place made her felt uneasy and she did not know why. She was overcome by certain eeriness as they neared the island.

"Stop it," she keeps telling herself, "this is just your imagination, Hermione. You're too nervous, that's all." She tried to calm herself.

"We'll nearly there," Mr. Ros said, slowing his pedaling motion and all of them followed him. "Now, on the count of three, we'll touch the shore. Put down your oars and get out of the boat whenever you're ready."

All the children started to put down their oars as Mr. Ros maneuvered the rowing boat towards the shore. With a thud, they hit rocky ground, and Mr. Ros leapt out of the boat. The other children followed their move.

Hermione got out of the boat after Amelia and Derrick. They were not very friendly towards her, and will still teats her sometimes. She had no desire to get close to them; for fear that they will spoil the fun she will be having soon.

As she got out of the boat, she gazed around her. The shore here was much more beautiful than the opposite side. The sand was more golden, and the shapes of the rocks and large boulders there was much nicer to look at.

"Now, children. I'll leave you here and go back to the other side to fetch Mrs. Cole and your friends. As Mrs. Cole say, you may wander around for just a bit, but don't get too far or try anything funny until we are here. We don't want to see the same incident thirty years ago again, thank you very much."

"What incident?" Hermione asked before she could stop herself. The way Mr. Ros put it, it had to be something nasty, she gathered. Otherwise, he would not have a slightly scared expression on his face when he mentioned it.

Mr. Ros gave her a quizical look before turning away.

"Oh, don't bother about that for now. Children, I'm off. Remember what Mrs. Cole told you? Stick together and don't get lost. I'll be right back!"

"Okay, Mr. Ros," the group chorused.

Mr. Ros nodded and smiled at the group of children before turning away quickly. Hermione could tell that he tried to avoid her question just now, and wondered why.

After Mr. Ros had gone, silence broke out from among the group. All the children just looked around them, unsure of what to do.

"Let's play hide and seek, shall we?" Gwen, a six-year-old girl suggested in a squeaky voice, breaking the silence.

Hermione, who had perched herself onto a boulder and had submerged her foot into the cooling water which was lapping gently against her tiny feet. At Gwen's suggestion, she looked up and furrowed her brow.

"I think we should wait for Mrs. Cole and the rest to arrive," she suggested, clearing her throat.

"Bah, there's no need for that," Derrick said, giving her a glare. "We can just wander off for just a bit, eh?"

All the others nodded in agreement after a few minutes.

"Okay. It's a good idea. But make sure to not to wander off far. We'll just go around here, okay?" Winnie, who was the oldest of them all said.

The children nodded.

"Winnie…" Hermione started, but the twelve-year-old girl cut her off curtly.

"Oh, Granger. You're no fun at all. Let's don't just sit there and do nothing. It's getting boring," she said, walking towards the others.

"It's up to you, Winnie. I'm staying here and wait for Mrs. Cole," Hermione said in a firm tone. After all, she was one who hates to disobey instructions, especially important and crucial ones such as this one. Any minute, they may get lost, and she will not want to bear the horrible consequences later.

Thus, as all the children started to wander off a short distance away, Hermione just sat there, gazing at the crystal blue water and admiring the beautiful scenery in front of her.

Oh, how she loved the seaside! This was definitely nicer than Treasure Island, she decided. She inhaled the fresh salty air deeply, and smiled to herself. It had been a while since she had felt so happy. She was determined to maintain this happy mood throughout this journey. She will let go of all her worries and relax just for this one day.

However, Hermione had a feeling that her happiness will not last long, and something terrible was bound to happen somehow. And she was soon to find out that she was right about this.

It all started when she heard pounding footsteps behind her. Thinking that it was Mrs. Cole or one of the other children arriving, she turned and look straight into a childish face. It was not Mrs. Cole or the other children, but Amelia.

"Hermione, let's play," Amelia said, tugging at Hermione's sleeves. "We need another player for our team. Derrick has five players, and our team only has three. Come on, don't just sit there. You're no fun at all!"

Amelia looked at Hermione with pleading eyes.

"Amelia, I don't think…"

But Amelia had run off in the opposite direction, waving at Hermione over her shoulders. "Come on, Hermione. If our team wins, I'll make sure that you'll be included in our celebration."

The girl gave Hermione another wave, before striding off to join her friends.

"No, you guys go ahead. I'll just rest here," Hermione said in a loud voice, so that Amelia will be able to hear her.

A glum look crossed Amelia's face, as she turned to look at Hermione.

"Fine," she said, in a slightly snappish tone. "Go ahead and waste your time, Granger. You're really no fun at all."

And without another word, she turned her back on Hermione and ignored her completely.

From where she was sitting, Hermione watched as the group broke up and went to hide. Only Derrick and Amelia were left now, and both of them gave each other broad grins before stepping closer to each other. Hermione saw them whispering franticly to one another for a few minutes, before breaking apart. She was sure that they were up to no good, judging by their actions and the mischievous expression plastered on their faces.

"Ready? I'll go first, okay?" Hermione heard Amelia giggling, as she skipped a few steps ahead of Derrick.

"Fine then," Derrick said, grinning at Amelia before he followed closely behind her.

From the corner of her eyes, she saw that both the children was slowly walking away from the spot which Winnie had told them to stick to when playing hide and seek. Instead of following the short path leading to a small cluster of trees where the others were [Hermione guessed this to be the case as she could still hear giggling sounds from behind the tall bushes], both of them made a sharp turn at the forked path and headed in the opposite direction.

"Hey!" Hermione said, quickly looking up. She noticed it when it was too late. "Amelia! Derrick! Come back! You're not supposed to go there. Winnie's already said that we…"

Both children paid no attention to what she was saying, and continued to head in the opposite direction. Derrick just turned his head, gave her a smirk and continued on his way.

Hermione got to her feet, and ran after them. She was not going to let them get lost or get into serious trouble, although she did not quite like them. They were sometimes nice to her after all.

"Amelia! Derrick! Come back!"

Amelia, who was running faster now turned around and gave Hermione a glare.

"Hermione, we've quite enough of you. Stop telling us what to do. We just want to check the sea cave out, and Winnie already knew about it. We asked her and she said there is no harm taking a look at it. We're not small kids anymore; we know what the danger of going in there is. There is no need of you tagging along just to warn us about it. After all, we're not planning to go in, just take a quick look at it. Then, we'll go back and tell the others about it. If we find it safe, we'll play hide and seek there next time when we come here."

"Yeah, Granger. Want to come along?" Derrick asked sarcastically. "I doubt you'll dare to disobey Mrs. Cole, eh? Let's go, Amelia."

"Come on, Derrick," Amelia said, stepping back and taking his arm. Together, both of them started to walk on.

Hermione quickened her pace to keep up with them.

"What's the matter, Granger?" Derrick asked in a teasing voice, after Hermione had managed to step in line with them. She was panting and slightly out of breath now.

"Want to come along?" Amelia mocked.

"I'll just make sure that you guys are alright," she said, walking along with them.

"Oh, fine with us. We don't care, honestly, now do we, Amelia?" Derrick asked.

"Suit you, Hermione," Amelia said. "However, I bet you'll regret this. This is really so fun."

Hermione just nodded, and walked on.

They picked their way through the winding path, taking care to step over fallen tree trunks and branches. Finally, they emerged into another side of the shore. Water was lapping against large rocks now, and at the middle of all the rocks, they could see a large hole.

Hermione felt excitement rising up in her as they approached the rocks.

"That must be the cave," Amelia pointed to the large hole among the rocks. "Look, it's big enough for us to squeeze in. Let's go inside."

"Amelia, I don't think…" Hermione started, but Derrick cut her off.

"Oh, come on. No one asked you to come along. You can wait for us here if you don't want to follow. I think it won't hurt to take a look and explore it for just a bit."

"But Mrs. Cole…"

"Oh bother," Amelia grunted, as she took Derrick's arm. Together, the both of them started to pick their way through the rocks until they were at the rock where the hole was.

"He we are. Ready?" Derrick asked Amelia. Amelia nodded and smiled up at Derrick.

"Are you coming, Hermione?" Derrick asked her as he stepped onto the rock, and extended a hand to help Amelia up.

Hermione sighed, and followed them. She had no other choice, she gathered. She could not just stand there and let them get into trouble. If Mrs. Cole decided to punish the three of them later, she was more than ready to face the consequences. After all, it is more important to do what is best at that time. She will not let both Amelia and Derrick get into trouble. She was sure if there were indeed some dangerous happenings, she will at least be able to help, with the knowledge she had gained. She had learned a few first aid techniques after all.

"Fine. Just make sure we're out in ten minutes," Hermione said, "the others will be worried and Mrs. Cole will be here soon."

"Fine. Ten minutes it is," Derrick said, as Amelia took a final leap and landed beside him.

Hermione walked carefully along the rocks, watching her steps all the time, as it was quite slippery. Finally, she managed to get to the large rock, and with one big leap, she managed to place herself between Amelia and Derrick.

"Do you bring any flash light? It'll be dark inside," Hermione said after a few minutes of silence, where the three of them looked down into the hole.

"Here. This will do," Derrick said, producing a small penlight from his pocket. "Make sure we stick together."

"Yes," Hermione said.

"So, who want to go first?" Amelia asked.

"I'll go first," Derrick said, crouching down and lowering him into the hole.

"I'm right behind you," Amelia said, crouching down and positioned her a few feet behind Derrick.

"I'll come last," Hermione said.

Something was not right with this place, she could feel it. It sends shivers down her spine. Perhaps she should go back, she contemplated. Maybe she could coax both Amelia and Derrick to follow her back and return later. Something was not right with this place; she kept on telling herself again.

"Derrick…"

Before she was able to finish her sentence, Derrick had vanished into the cave, with Amelia following closely behind him.

Hermione sighed and followed them. She lowered herself into the hole, and let herself down. She begins to fall deep, deep, deep and deep down.

Finally, she landed with a thud on wet ground. The cave was so dark that she had to blink to adapt to the sudden darkness.

"Amelia! Derrick!" she called out.

There was no answer.

Panic rise in her. Her heart began to pound madly. Where were the both of them?

"Amelia! Derrick!" she called out again.

There was still no answer.

Oh God, what should she do now? Should she go back and tell the others? Or should she look for them?

Hermione looked about her surroundings. There was no way she was able to climb out of the cave again without finding her friends. It will be dangerous soon, as the tide will rise and washed them away. She knew this will happen if she leaves now. She will not have enough time to get back and inform the others about it. Amelia and Derrick will be in severe danger now, as their lives will be at stake.

She needs to think fast. "Think, Hermione, think. Relax and think."

Cold sweat was trickling down her forehead now. She wiped it with the back of her hand, and then rubbed her palms together. She shivered slightly. There was a certain dark aura about this place which she could feel, and she did not like this feeling at all.

"Amelia! Derrick! Where are you?" she tried to call again, but there was still no answer.

And with that, Hermione made her decision.

She straightened up, and started to take a few steps forward. She was going to look for the both of them. Perhaps they are hurt, she gathered. But, that was impossible. They should have fallen down here, and they had also promised to wait for her. Were they playing hide and seek with her as another form of teaser?

"Amelia! Derrick!" she called out again, but there was not a sound. Only the lapping of waves against rocks could be heard.

Hermione groped about in the dark as she continued into the cave. At intervals, she would call out both of her friends' names, but each time, she received no response.

She ran her hands along the damp walls of the cave, and ventured deeper and deeper. The air smelled of mold and mist, and it was getting colder and colder as she went deeper into the cave. She shivered and hugged herself tightly.

Bum!

Hermione gasped in shock as her head collided with something hard. Pain shot through her head, and she clutched her forehead. She blinked back tears and opened her eyes.

In the dark, she had failed to notice a solid brick wall in front of her, and had walked right into it. She rubbed the swollen lump on her head for a while, before looking around.

The path just ended there. There was no where to turn too, as there was no forked path or something like it. If Amelia and Derrick were indeed here, they will end up in this place as well. The path was blocked by this wall. There was no where they can go any further, Hermione gathered.

"Amelia! Derrick!"

There was still no answer.

Panicked, Hermione looked around once more. Where could the two of them possibly be? They could not just disappear like this, could they? It was impossible!

"Amelia! Derrick!"

Silence.

Hermione let out a sigh, and looked at the brick wall in front of her. It was a solid brick wall, she noticed. Sea water had washed over it several times, no doubt, she gathered, as she saw the bricks were old and she could smell the fresh scent of salt. She ran her finger along the bricks thoughtfully, contemplating her next move. What should she do now?

It was then that her fingers made contact with something. She gasped in surprise as her fingers traced a pattern on the brick wall. What was that, she wondered. It could not be an ordinary brick, she gathered.

She leaned in closer as curiosity overtook her, and squinted at the pattern at the center of the brick wall.

Her mouth dropped open in surprise. There, at the center of the wall, someone had carved some weird letters on it, and beneath those letters, there was a pattern of a snake, with large beady eyes which looked down on the person staring at it.

Hermione traced the pattern lightly with her fingers once more. What is this, she wondered. Was this some kind of art during the last century? Was it a mural? After all, she had read in some books that ancient people will carve some drawings in caves where they lived in, as a form of art or to illustrate their life history.

Hermione was jolted out of her thoughts by the sound of laughter. She whirled around and there, standing there with broad grins plastered on their faces were none other than Derrick and Amelia.

Anger overtook Hermione at the sight of them. They were playing with her, the nerve of the two of them! She had been so worried about them, and they had just jumped up on her like that? She was not going to tolerate this.

"Hey!" she shouted at them. "What do you two things you're doing, running off like that and playing with me? Did you know I'm so worried about the both of you?"

"Chill, Hermione," Amelia said, grinning broadly. "It's just a game. Let's go back now, shall we?"

"Yeah," Derrick said.

Before she could control herself, Hermione lunged forward and grabbed the both of them by the collar.

"Don't ever do this again!" she shouted before letting go. Anger was shown all over her face.

"Hey! What's the big deal? It's just a game!" Derrick retorted, pushing himself away from Hermione.

"Yeah. If we offended you, Hermione, we're terribly sorry. Let's go, shall we?" she tugged Derrick's sleeves, and the both of them started to make their way out of the cave.

Hermione let out an exasperated sigh, and turn to follow them. However, what happened next was totally unexpected.

Amelia and Derrick suddenly slipped and collapsed hard onto the floor.

"Ouch!" the both said, trying to get up. Hermione reached them just in time, as the next thing happened so quickly that neither of them was prepared for it.

Derrick and Amelia started to scream, as they were stuck to the ground. There was a great force which pulled them downwards into the ground. They were starting to disappear.

"Noooooooo!" Hermione could hear both of them shriek out in horror as their bodies were pulling farther down into an endless pit by that invisible force.

"Amelia! Derrick!" Hermione screamed, trying to get hold of them.

"You freak! What have you done?" Amelia asked Hermione fearfully. Half of her body was gone now.

"I…I…didn't…"

"Please! Don't do this, Hermione. We…we're sorry…" Derrick trailed off as the lower half of his body disappeared from view.

"I…I…"

And then, there was a loud bang, and both Amelia and Derrick were thrown out of the hole roughly by that invisible force again. Their bodies landed with two loud thuds on the opposite side of the cave, at the spot where Hermione was standing a few minutes ago, near the brick wall.

Screams could be heard as they echoed through the empty cave. Amelia started to cry and Derrick started to wail. Hermione, stunned by surprise, was unable to move. She just stands there, rooted to the spot. Why this was happening again, she wondered. It had not happen for quite some time now. Couldn't she control her anger this time?

Cautiously, Hermione approached the crying Amelia and the wailing Derrick. She could see that both of them were badly hurt; their arms were bleeding and both of them had large and swollen bumps on their heads.

"Get away from us, you freak!" Amelia sobbed, massaging her head.

"Please, don't do it again!" Derrick wailed.

"We're sorry!" Amelia finally forced out, after a few more seconds. Both of them looked frightened.

"I can explain. I…" Hermione started, but both of them had started to cry again.

"Fine. Let's talk about this later. Shall we go?" Hermione suggested after watching both of them for a few more seconds. It was no use explaining things to them now, she gathered. They were probably too shaken by the incident just now to hear any explanation from her and she doubted they will believe her story.

"Yeah, let's go," Derrick said to Amelia finally, and started to get up. Both of them hold hands and started to walk away without Hermione.

"Stay away from her," Amelia said in a shaky voice.

Derrick pulled himself away from the brick wall which he was leaning on, and followed Amelia out of the cave. Hermione was about to follow them when she noticed something weird happened again.

Derrick, who had a cut on his elbow, had leaned on the brick wall for support just now. Before he left, Hermione noticed that he accidentally brushed against the pattern of the snake carved into the bricks, and his blood was all over the spot. For a moment, nothing happened.

However, as Hermione was about to turn and follow the both of them [who was already far ahead of her], she heard a low rumbling sound. She turned and could not believe what she saw. The drop of blood had vanished, as though it had been absorbed into the bricks, and the bricks were now moving apart, making a small hole appear at the center of the wall.

Hermione looked at the moving bricks with surprise. What was this, she wondered. With trembling hands, she reached forward and traced the pattern of the snake on the bricks again. It looked so real, she now noticed. The hole got bigger and bigger as the bricks continued to move apart. Finally, it stopped moving. The hole was now just big enough for Hermione to squeeze through.

Curiosity overtook her, as she peered through the hole. There was another shore, she noticed. Was this another exit out of the cave, she wondered. If it is, why was it concealed? What had made the bricks move aside? Derrick's blood? What about Derrick's blood? What does all this mean?

Question after question popped into her mind, and the more she thought about it, the more curious she became. Finally, as she could not stand the nagging feeling in herself any longer, she decided to check it out. It would not take long, she figured.

Cautiously, she approached the wall, and placed her fingers on the brick wall. Shivers ran down her spine as she fingers connected with the cold bricks. Nothing was out of place, she gathered, as her fingers traveled down the pattern of the snake carved into the bricks and feel the hole which had appeared.

"If I could make this bigger, I'll be able to squeeze through," she said, trying to push the bricks with her fingers. Nothing happened.

Hermione looked at the hole. If she managed to move the pattern of the snake just a little, the hole will be big enough for her. Now, it was slightly too small, and she still could not squeeze through it.

"If I can split this pattern up…" she murmured to herself thoughtfully.

She figured that in order for her to get into the hole and come out at the other end, she will have to move the pattern of the snake so that it's head will be on one side and tits tail on the other. This way, the hole will be bigger and she will be able to squeeze through it.

She used her index finger to mark a line at the center of the snake carving and try as hard as she could to push the bricks apart. But it still did not barge.

"Oh, couldn't it just move?" she sighed exasperatedly.

She prodded the snake pattern with her fingers, and scoffed inwardly. Why was it not working now, she wondered.

Then, an idea popped into her head. Perhaps some blood will do the trick, she thought. After all, the bricks only move apart to reveal the hole after Derrick's blood was absorbed into it.

Hermione rummaged in her pockets for a pocket knife. She placed the tip of the blade to one of her elbows, and gently stabbed it. She hissed in pain as blood started to drip from the small wound. She placed her elbow on the pattern, and rubbed it against the spot.

Then, she stepped back and waited for something to happen.

One minute, and still nothing happened.

Two minutes, and Hermione was getting agitated. Why wouldn't it work this time?

For the next minutes, Hermione just stood there, hoping that the bricks will move again, but still nothing happened.

"Oh, come on. Open up," she muttered to herself.

Nothing happened.

She pressed her face closer to the pattern of the snake. Her blood was still there, unabsorbed. She looked into the snake's eyes. It looked so real, she thought.

"Open, open, open…" she muttered to herself while gazing at the snake.

And then, without warning, the bricks forming the pattern of the snake begin to move. They move further apart, making the hole bigger and bigger and bigger. Hermione stared in awe. What had she done? She had just muttered the word "open" for several times while looking at the pattern. Was it that which did the trick this time? Oh my, this was getting funnier and funnier, she thought.

With a final rumble, the whole brick wall suddenly disappeared, leaving in its place an opening which is large enough for ten people to get through. Hermione blinked in disbelief. What had just happened? Was this place bewitched? Shivers ran down her spine as that last thought entered her head. She had read about witches and wizards in fairytales, but she did not believed in them. There were just stories after all. However, the events which occurred throughout this entire day was so weird that nothing better can explain it.

"Oh, forget it," Hermione muttered to herself, as she stepped through the opening.

She looked around her. She was no longer in the dark cave now. Instead, she found herself facing another part of the island. Here, there was no golden sand or large rocks or the crystal blue seawater. Instead, there was a small stream, its clear water swishing gently as it flow outwards. Hermione took a deep breath and let out a deep sigh. It was quite a plain landscape, she noticed. She wondered what was across the stream. She gazed intently as far as she could, and her eyes caught a glimpse of something. Was that another rock on the other side?

Without knowing why, Hermione felt excitement rising in her again. She suddenly has the urge to check it out.

She neared the stream and put her foot into the water. The cold water splashed against her feet, making her shiver slightly. It was too deep, she gathered. She could not swim across there, she figured, although she had being attending swimming lessons in her primary school as extra curricular activities. She dare not risk it, even though the current seemed not too strong.

Was this the main source of water here, she wondered. Was this stream flowing directly into the blue ocean on the beach?

"Ah, I'll think of all this later," she figured. "Now, how to get across?"

She furrowed her brow in concentration. She would need a rowing boat, she figured. But how on earth was she going to get one?

Suddenly, something caught her eyes. She saw something moving above her head as the wind blew. She could hear it; something jingled as the wind continued to blew.

Cautiously, she reached up to the source of the noise and feels the air. For a while, she felt nothing, and then, her fingers made contact with something hard and cold. What was that, she wondered. Oh, this place was really magical after all, she thought. It was full of surprises.

She closed her fingers around the cold object, and started to pull. The harder she pulls, the heavier it became. And n, it was too heavy that Hermione could no longer hold on to it. What was it, she wondered. Using all the strength left in her, Hermione gave it a final pull, and-

Thump!

A metal chain dropped to the ground. Hermione collapsed onto the floor, panting slightly as she tightened her grip on the chain. She could feel the cold metal in her palms as she pulled herself up from the ground, and looked down at the chain.

"What is this?" she wondered. "What have I discover?"

Her brows furrowed in concentration.

"Wait…" she trailed off. "If there was a chain, it will definitely connect to something. I wonder…"

She pulled harder on the chain, dragging it on the ground while taking a few steps backward. She hoped that the assumption she made was correct.

The chain was slowly uncoiling as Hermione pulled it. She could see that the chain extended right into the flowing stream and under the water. Was there something down there, she wondered.

And sure enough, after a few more hard pulls, as the metal chain uncoil itself, she felt something heavy being dragged out onto the ground. Hermione could feel that the object was heavy. So, using both her hands, she pulled it up with all her might.

Splash!

She blinked and looked down at the object, which was now half submerged in the water. She could not believe her eyes, for there, bobbing about on the surface of the water, was a rowing boat; a beautiful one indeed.

Hermione stared open-mouthed at it for a while, before smiling.

"This place is magical. It seemed to provide just what I needed." She chuckled. She was beginning to like this place. Damn Mrs. Cole and the others; she would not care for any detention later. She needed to explore this wonderful place.

Carefully, she stepped into the water and into the boat. She picked up the oars, and started to pedal her way across the stream. She was lucky she was a quick learner; she had got the hang of pedaling earlier today, when Mr. Ros showed it to the other children. Hermione smiled satisfactorily. Oh, how very clever of her!

Without much difficulty, Hermione pedaled on for a few minutes before the rowing boat touched ground. She got out of the boat, and placed the oars back into it before straightening up and surveying her surroundings.

There were no rocks or boulders here, she noticed. In fact, the place was quite empty save for a small pool which was built on a large round stone a few feet away from where she was standing. Something glittered in the pool.

Hermione's curiosity instantly doubled, and without any hesitation, she made her way towards the pool.

When she reached it, she peered down curiously into the pool. It was no bigger than a large fish bowl, but it was quite deep, she gathered. Inside the pool was some kind of water [or so she assumed] which glittered brightly. The liquid was green in colour; an unusual shade of green. It looked familiar, Hermione thought. Where she had seen this colour before, she wondered.

She was just mulling over her thoughts when something else caught her eyes. There was something else at the bottom of the pool, she noticed.

She leaned forward and peered down usuriously. And that was when she saw it.

A locket with a letter S engraved on it was lying at the bottom of the pool.

"Was this some kind of treasure?" Hermione wondered.

She decided to check it out, as she could no longer resist her curiosity. This place was really some sort of magical land after all. Who knows that the locket will be a great treasure?

With trembling hands, she reached into the pool and tried to get the locket out.

The cold green liquid seeped through her skin, and Hermione shivered slightly. However, just before she reached the locket, her fingers collided with something hard. She frowned, and took her hands out of the liquid. Oddly enough, her palms were not wet. She stared at her palms for another moment, before deciding to give it another try.

She dipped her hands into the water and the same thing happened again. Just as she was about to touch the locket, her hands collided with something hard. It was as though as the liquid had froze and blocked her hands from touching the locket.

This must be some kind of enchantment, Hermione thought. After all, people who wished to hide treasures will often put some kind of protection over it.

She tried again for the third time and the same thing happen.

"What should I do?" she wondered. For one moment, she thought of leaving the locket there and return to where Mrs. Cole and the others were probably waiting for her. Amelia and Derrick will be back already, she gathered. She should perhaps leave the treasure here, she thought. After all, its owner had decided to hide it there and did not wish it to be discovered.

However, another part of her beckoned her to get the locket. She should check it out; after all, how many times in her life will she get this chance? Checking it out wouldn't hurt, she gathered. If she was lucky, she could take the locket home with her, as a form of remembrance. She smiled at the last thought.

"No, this is wrong," she told herself. "I cannot steal what is rightfully not mine."

She decided that she will just check it out and then put the locket back if she indeed managed to get it out of the deep pool.

She gazed down at the locket. The liquid was frozen somewhere at the bottom of the pool. If she was able to see what made it frozen, she could perhaps get it fixed; after all, she had read many Physics and Chemistry textbooks before. She hoped that her knowledge would help her this time. So, she summoned all her memories on Physics and Chemistry and contemplated her options. How should she get to fix the frozen part of the liquid?

The girl creased her forehead and drew her brows tightly together in concentration.

"Got it," she finally said, clapping her hands happily. "I'll have to get rid of the unfrozen liquid first."

She rummaged in her pockets for a small cup which she had brought along to this trip. She had brought it just in case Mrs. Cole had forgotten about her; the matron tends to forget Hermione sometimes. She will have no cup to drink from if the matron forgot about it, thus she had brought it along for good measure.

"Ah, at least this is handy now," she said, placing the cup into the pool.

The cup was immediately filled up with the green liquid, and Hermione lifted it out of the pool. She gazed down at it for a while. The green liquid swirled in the cup. Hermione lifted up the cup, and sniffed it. She found that it was odourless.

"Hmm," she wondered, gazing down at the liquid. Then, she poured it onto the ground and dipped the cup once more into the pool. She repeated this for several times.

And surprisingly, the cup managed to penetrate the frozen liquid too! She found no difficulty in bringing the whole cup out of the water. To her surprise, the liquid was not frozen anymore.

She blinked disbelievingly. What is the meaning of all this?

As she mulled over this problem, Hermione continued to pour away the liquid in the pool until only the locket was left at the bottom of it.

"Ah!" she said triumphantly, putting the cup down on the floor and reaching down into the pool. She half expected something weird to happen again, but nothing happened as her fingers made contact with a cold surface. She closed her fingers around the object, and pulled it out.

The locket was now safely in her palms. She gazed down at it. It was quite beautiful. The pendant was fastened around an old gold chain, and there was a large shimmering letter S engraved on the locket.

What the S represents, she wondered. Snake? Solar system? She mulled over this possibilities. Was this some kind of family heirloom which was lost in the war?

She turned the locket over several times in her hands. Perhaps she should try and open it, she gathered.

Taking a deep breath, she gripped the locket firmly and pulled it open. Immediately, a crumpled piece of parchment fell out of it and onto the floor.

Hermione stared. Was this some kind of code, she wondered aloud as she picked up the creased parchment. The parchment was folded neatly into a square, just enough to fit the locket.

She unfolded the paper, and her eyes read the following:

Dear master,

When this falls into your hands, I'm long gone. I dare not ask for your forgiveness for what I've done, for I do not fear the consequences of my punishment.

The purpose of writing this letter is to inform you that it is I, who had discovered your secret. In your hands now, you hold a fake piece of the locket, for I've replaced the original one with a fake one which I have cleverly designed myself. You'll never find the original one, my dear master, for I've taken the liberty to hide it. And I'm sure that this locket will disappear together with my death. Let this remain our secret, and master, I still do not ask for your forgiveness, for I hereby declare myself free and no longer your faithful servant.

Yours truly,

R.A.B.

Hermione reread the letter again. Her curiosity increase. What was all this about"

She gathered that there was a mystery behind this whole thing. She will find out about it later, she gathered.

She stuffed the letter back into the locket, and pulled it close. Then, she looked down at it. Someone had replaced the original locket with the fake one; this was what she had managed to gather so far. Some sort of servant had stolen from his master. She wondered how long had this been. The parchment was crinkled and still looked quite new. Could it have happened recently?

The more she thought about it, the more curious she became.

What she should do now, Hermione wondered. Should she take the locket home and try to figure the puzzle out?

"No," she said finally. After all, she was not coming back here after this. She had a feeling that she will never see this place again. She will just put the locket back into the pool and forget all about it.

Taking a final look at the locket, she reached out and threw it back into the pool. There was a loud clink as the locket touched the bottom of the poll.

Hermione then turned away slowly, picked up the empty cup, pocketed it and straightened up. She ought to leave now; she had explored enough already, she decided.

A bubbling sound made her turn. She blinked for the hundredth time that day. She stared into the pool, wide-eyed. The green liquid was refilling itself again. The liquid continued to rise and rise until it reached the level where it was originally was before Hermione poured it out. And then, everything was still.

Ah, the magic must have been activated again, she thought. It will protect the locket, whether it is a fake one or not. Just to confirm her theory, she traced back her steps and put her hands into the pool. And sure enough, her assumption was indeed true. Just as her fingers was about to touch the locket, the liquid became frozen like an unbreakable barrier, preventing her from advancing further.

She smiled and straightened up.

"Oh, this place is simply awesome! I hope I can return sometimes!"

Taking a deep sigh, Hermione took one last look at the pool before slowly turning away. She picked her way through the waters until she reached the rowing boat. She leaped into the boat, and started to pedal away.

She reached the other side smoothly. Without trouble, she stepped out of the rowing boat, and a few seconds later, the boat disappeared in front of her own eyes, along with the chain.

Hermione gazed at the spot where the boat had vanished and turned away. She stepped through the brick wall without trouble and it closed behind her. She did not gape or stared in astonishment this time. She had somehow predicted that this will happen somehow. She picked her way through the dark cave, reached the opening, and cautiously climbed out of the hole.

She picked her way through the slippery rocks once she was out of the cave, and ran as fast as she could down the winding path.

As she neared the seaside, she could hear the chatter of children. It seemed that a commotion had broken out amongst them, judging by the loud tones she heard. Mrs. Cole and Mr. Ros were arguing about something, it seemed. Hermione wondered whether it concerned her.

Cautiously, she made her way as quietly as possible and hid behind a tree when she reached the spot where the group was now gathering. All the children were starting to cry, and from the corners of her eyes, Hermione noticed that Amelia and Derrick had gone very pale, and were trembling badly. What had happened, to them, Hermione wondered. Had someone hurt them?

A tinge of regret overtook her. She should not be so selfish and abandon them. Those two are really hopeless kids who did not know how to take proper care of them. They will definitely get into trouble. Oh, why wouldn't she think about it just now?

She hoped that what they encounter was not too serious, but their looks told a different story.

Mrs. Cole's angry voice brought Hermione out of her thoughts. She started to tune in on their conversation.

"I knew it! This is bound to happen!"

"Calm down, Cole."

"Ros, I can't! It happened again! Remember Amy Benson?" Mrs. Cole's voice was shaking. Hermione could tell that she was scared of something. Who is Amy Benson?

"Cole, calm you. I assure you that everything will be alright. Let's just find that girl first."

"There's no need, I knew it! It was she who did this to both of them! I'm certain…"

"Cole…"

"She is exactly like him, Ros! Nothing but a freak!"

And now, Hermione was sure that they were talking about her. Sadness washed over her. Why were they accusing her of something bad [she assumed it to be bad] and call her a freak?

"I don't think she did it, Cole. She is not like him. I know he's funny, but she looked ordinary…"

"They're the same! I should not have take her in and listen to the old man! Nonsense! He assured me that nothing of this kind will ever happen again, and look what have we here?"

At this point, Hermione had had enough. She stepped out from her hiding place and walked towards Mrs. Cole with a stony expression on her face. As far as she was concerned, she had finally found out why the matron had hated her. She had behaved exactly like someone; someone from the past. And that someone certainly have an impact on Mrs. Cole. A great impact indeed, for Hermione could notice the fear in the matron's tone when she spoke about him just now.

"Mrs. Cole…"

The words were barely out of her mouth when Mrs. Cole advanced towards Hermione.

"Yu! What have you done to Derrick and Amelia? They will not tell me a word of it! You tell me!"

"Mrs. Cole, I…"

"Enough! I…." Mrs. Cole staggered backwards, and before she could say another word, she fainted.

All the others screamed in horror, and some of them started to cry. Amelia and Derrick let out hysterical screams as they leap up from their sitting spots and started to run.

"Calm down, children! Calm down!" Mr. Ros shouted. Hermione was surprised how his raspy voice was replaced by a strong and clear one now.

"Get in line! Hermione, help me carry your matron into the rowing boat! All of you follow me! We're leaving!"

Hermione did as she was instructed, and helped Mr. Ros to carry Mrs. Cole to the rowing boat. Mr. Ros ordered the other children to get into the boat.

"Hold on tight," Mr. Ros said. "I'm risking this chance just once. We'll all try to fit into this boat. I hope it's not too heavy for all of you. I've tried loading thirty children once, when something like this happened, but ah, that was years ago. I hope that my boat will still be able to stand it the second time."

He cleared his throat, and held his oars tightly. "Ready? Steady? Go!"

The children started to pedal. Derrick and Amelia just sat at the back, while Winnie comforted them as she pedaled along with the others. Both of them still looked shaken.

Finally, they made it across the sea, through the woods and back into Wools orphanage. Mrs. Cole was brought into her room, and her doctor was summoned.

HG/LV/HG/LV/HG/LV/HG/LV

Lord Voldemort peered down into the pool filled with green liquid, and smiled satisfactorily. The locket was still safe and sound. His soul is well protected and well hidden.

He had arrived to check on it after checking to make sure that other horcruxes were still properly hidden. This was his second last destination. He still needs to head to the gaunt shack to find out whether the Gaunt's ring was still hidden there.

He gazed up into the evening sky, and sighed. Then, he turned around, and made his way across the stream.

He reached the seaside, and admired the view for a while.

He turned away, and apparatus in the vicinity of his old and miserable home: Wools Orphanage.

Was that horrible Mrs. Cole still running this place, he wondered. He had not set foot here for the past twenty years. The last time he came here was to hide his locket in the location which he deemed safe enough.

He looked up into the tall, gray and shabby-looking building. Everything was still in place.

His face contorted into a mask of hatred as memories of his past in the orphanage came flooding back into his mind.

He figured that he should leave now, as his magic was crackling around him. He could burn that place down anytime, and he was not going to risk it. He could not risk being discovered by the light side; his forces were still too weak now. Maybe a few years more, and he will be putting his plan in motion. He needs to wait for the right moment to strike, he gathered.

From within, he heard the noisy chatter of children, and laughter, cries and howls. What happened, he wondered. He stomped his foot furiously; he could not bear this any longer; the wailing, crying, laughing, it was all too much!

With an angry mood, Lord Voldemort clenched his fists, turned on the spot and disappeared into the warm July night.

HG/LV/HG/LV/HG/LV/HG/LV

^^ There! Finally it's done! Tell me how all of you liked it!

^^ I'll like to clear some things up, so as to avoid confusion. I'm sure that when some of you read about Hermione's mysterious ease of access to the locket, all of you may be wondering why she was able to do so. Actually, I planned to hold this back and explain it in the chapters to come, but I thought better of it now. So, here is my explanation.

As the girl-who-lived, Hermione had no doubt inherited so traits from Lord Voldemort. In my story, these traits were much stronger compared to the traits Harry inherited, and Hermione had a dark aura surrounding her [without knowing it, of course]. Hence, when the inferri [not sure whether I spelled it right] in the lake smelled their master's aura, they decided to let Hermione past [thinking that she was their master]. The liquid in the pool was designed not to resist Voldemort's touch, and as Hermione had the same dark aura, she was able to touch the liquid and retrieve the fake locket.

As for the bricks in the wall, it still remained the same; someone has to present it with blood. And the opening of the hole when Hermione spoke to the snake does not need any explanation, I guess? If you're still wondering, here's it: Hermione is a Parselmouth, and she can speak parseltongue, just like our dear Lord Voldemort!

^^ All of this are my own ideas, I modified Rowling's plot a bit to suit my own story. Let me know what all of you think about it! Can't wait for your wonderful reviews!

^^ Next chapter will be up soon!

~~ Hermione Hean Fui ~~


	6. Chapter 6 MAGIC

Author's note:

Hello! Chapter 6 is up! Please read and review!

Sorry for so many spelling and grammar mistakes in the last chapter. I noticed it when I read it myself today. I actually updated that chapter in a hurry, and was too excited to check it twice, as I always did. As all of you who have read my previous story knew, I have not managed to find a beta yet, so I hope all of you will continue to bear with me for my spelling and grammatical errors; I know they are terrible sometimes. I'll get a beta as fast as possible, and for now, I'll just write on and try my best not to make so many mistakes.

Review replies:

Hermione – The Dark Lady: Thanks for your review. Yeah, I know. I don't like dark Hermione either, but don't worry. Hermione in my story will not be dark; she only has a dark aura surrounding her. However, I might make her slightly darker once she meets Oldie, to give my story another interesting twist.

And having said that, let's begin! Enjoy!

HG/LV/HG/LV/HG/LV/HG/LV

Chapter 6: Magic

One whole miserable year had passed since the incident at the seaside occurred. No one will ever talk about it; not even Mrs. Cole, or Mr. Ros, who sometimes dropped by to visit Mrs. Cole and discussed things over a cup of coffee or a pot of tea. As for the other children, they were too terrified to even talk about the incident. Amelia Hardington and Derrick Dudderson had been transferred to another orphanage by Mrs. Cole and upon their own request. Both of them were too afraid to live in Wools Orphanage anymore. They would often cry their eyes out at night for no reason and screamed whenever a certain young girl passed them on the way down the stairs or corridors. This had gone on for a few months before Mrs. Cole decided to send both of them away to solve the problem once and for all. And both of them did not object this preposition at all; for them, being in a place as far away as possible from the "dark girl" was a blessing in disguise. All their terrors will be gone, and they will be able to begin a new and happy life in their new home.

After Amelia and Derrick left, the orphanage was less lively, as the both of them used to be the ones who organized games and create fun for all the other children. Most children will return to their rooms or went to the library silently after meals, without having anything else particular to do. When Hermione passed them in the corridors, they will just give her frightened looks before running away quickly. As for the older children such as Winnie, they ignored her completely, and pretended not to notice her whenever they bumped into each other in the corridors. Thus, Hermione had lived in this situation for one miserable year.

She had no one to talk to, no one to share her thoughts with, no one to care about her and no one to make her feel at home at all. To put it simply, all was lost after the horrible incident at the seaside. Mrs. Cole had treated her terribly; punishing her by giving her more chores, caning her for no reason when she had mood swings, calling her terrible names and purposely opposed all her suggestions of improving the orphanage whenever they held meetings. All the other staff in the orphanage treated her even worse after hearing about what happened at the seaside. Martha, the daily help will not smile or talk to Hermione anymore. Thus, whenever they worked together, she will pretend as though as Hermione was not there and carried out her chores in silence. The cook, who sometimes reserved some food for Hermione, as she knew that Hermione will not get to eat enough as the other children tend to have all the nice food before giving Hermione leftover, no longer do so. So, Hermione grew slightly thinner as the days passed, as she has to live on leftovers everyday. And Mrs. Cole did not even say a word about this. She just let the other staff treat Hermione in whatever way which they deemed fit.

Hermione had tried to Mrs. Cole about what actually happened at the seaside, but Mrs. Cole turned a deaf ear and will not take every single explanation that Hermione gave her. She will shook her head, and called Hermione a freak before started to cane her violently. This happened every time Hermione brought up the subject. She will often return to her room with bruises covering half of her body. The pain will last for days, and Hermione will feel the stinging pain whenever she accidentally brushed against her skin. However, she was more than prepared to endure this kind of harsh treatment. After all, she believed that she was not in the wrong, and what happened was totally out of her control. Nevertheless, she could not help wondering sometimes whether Amelia and Derrick had went through more than what she saw happened that day. Perhaps they were attacked by someone else when they were on their way back. She will not know that, she gathered, as both of them had left before she did, and they refused to tell everyone what happened. They just looked scared and cried whenever the subject was brought up. They will point at Hermione with trembling fingers and accusing her to be the cause of all that had happened. Other children shunned Hermione for this reason and they will gave her glares whenever Amelia or Derrick freaked up for no reason sometimes.

A pang of sadness overtook her whenever she thought about what had happened. However, at the same time, a certain sense of excitement will also coursed through her whole body. The thought of the island and the cave made her felt excited. Whenever she thought about the seaside, a picture will form in her mind; the plain landscape of the lake, the deep pool with the green liquid and the locket. She will smiled when this picture formed in her mind, remembering the wonderful sensation of rowing across the stream, grabbing the metal chain from midair, opening up the brick wall, and getting the locket out of the pool. Oh, how clever she was, she mused.

Her life went on like this since then... Hermione will return to the orphanage after school finished, eat her meal silently, did all the necessary chores and then retreat to her room. Her room was her only sanctuary; Mrs. Cole will not let her go near the library anymore. She will read silently in her room, complete her assignments from school and then started to meditate to clear her thoughts. She let the whole world around her absorb her loneliness and sorrow; crying a little sometimes. She will never stop looking out of her window, watching the sky darkening as evening approached, and watching the stars appeared at night. This was the only way to live on, she decided. If she did not let go, she will be insane in no time, and she still had a long path ahead of her. She was not going to throw her life away by simply penning up all her misery and anger in her; it will make her a psychopath in no time. She had no desire for this to happen. She will live through these challenges; for they were challenges in life which she had to overcome in order to move on. She will treat this as a way to strengthen herself so that she will be prepare to face other tougher challenges in the real world when she was able to leave this miserable home and move on with her life and support herself.

For now, she figured that she will just have to study hard and achieve her goals before her dream of living a wonderful and precious life can come true. With this determination, Hermione Granger was able to survive the tough moments in Wools Orphanage and continue to excel in her studies. She was still the top of her class, still the apple of every teacher's eye and still liked by most of the students in her class and school. And Hermione felt contented with this; it will not be possible to ask for too much. This was more than enough to keep her inspired and motivated her to live on.

Unknown to Hermione, her whole life will change soon, and she will be in for a surprise when she discovers her true self. The unexpected finally happened on one Thursday afternoon, when Hermione had just returned from school.

That day was just an ordinary day. After finishing her lunch [which was not much, as always], Hermione had done the washing, dried the laundry and scrubbed the floor before Mrs. Cole declared that she was free to go. She retreated to her room as always, took a shower, and started to thumb through a new Charles Dickens novel which she had borrowed from the school library earlier that morning.

She was just turning a page when there was a knock on her bedroom door. It must be Mrs. Cole, she gathered, asking her to clean up whatever mess the children had left behind in the drawing room. She sighed, marked her page and cleared her throat before answering the door.

"Yes, Mrs. Cole?" she said in her bored voice. She usually used this tone around Mrs. Cole now, and the matron did not seem to mind it at all.

"Granger, you have a visitor," Mrs. Cole said curtly. Hermione could sense a sense of disapproval in her voice.

Her eyebrows shot up in surprise at the same time. A visitor? Who could it possibly be? Throughout her entire life, never once had someone visited her. Her friends at school knew she lived in an orphanage, and visitors were seldom allowed here. Mrs. Cole had probably informed her teachers about visiting rules at the orphanage too, as most matrons of the orphanages would usually do so. So, no one will ever visit her or the other children here. The only visitors were couples or persons who wished to adopt a child. Mrs. Cole will have the whole place cleaned up nicely [Hermione will do most of it, of course], and showed the individuals around with a faked smile plastered on her smile. Hermione had seen enough of this, and was getting bored by the same routine each time a visitor decided to step in here.

"He'll be here in five minutes. Get yourself ready and make sure to look presentable in front of him. I wouldn't want to hear complaints that I've mistreated you throughout these ten years, now would I?" Mrs. Cole's voice jolted Hermione out of her musings.

Hermione swallowed before asking in the same bored voice, "Who is he by the way? I don't remember having asked anyone…"

"Oh, you'll find out soon, girl," Mrs. Cole's voice could be heard in the distance. Her high heels clicked as she walked away from the corridor.

Hermione sighed. Maybe someone had come to adopt her at last, she thought. Yes, this will be the most logical explanation. At last, she will be able to get out of this terrible place and begin a new life. That will be thrilling, she gathered.

But what if she was wrong? What if this was nothing at all, nothing but an ordinary visitor? A teacher? Or maybe even a doctor? She had heard Mrs. Cole saying that she was a freak, and ought to be examined by psychologists. Mrs. Cole had also threatened to send her to an asylum when Hermione irritated her sometimes. Hermione had been shaken by this; she will not want to be examined by psychologists and locked up in a cell in a madhouse. There was no way she was going to let Mrs. Cole do this. She was not crazy, for crying out loud! The weird events happened just like that, and she just could not find any explanations for them. What did Mrs. Cole expected her to do, she wondered.

Anger rise in her as she thought about this. If this visitor or whatever Mrs. Cole called him was indeed a psychologist or doctor of some sort, she will refuse him immediately. She will prepare all the necessary arguments to counter his suggestions and all the points he made which suggested that she was mental. She was not giving in without a fight. This is her life, and she had every right in making her own choices. No one can force her into doing anything which she did not wish to do, and in order to gain her compliance, they will have to put up a fight with her. She will not going to be easy for them; she will make things difficult for them until she got her own way, if it is possible to do so.

Thus, it was with this determination that Hermione got up from the bed, combed her hair and tied it neatly in a ponytail, dressed in her best dress [a pink perrywinkle party dress which she only wore for parties in her school, which made it look not too worn-out], arranged her things neatly on her desk and sat down on her bed, awaiting the arrival of her visitor.

A soft knock sounded just as Hermione started to get agitated. Clearing her throat, she managed to say in a confident voice, "Come in."

The door opened, and a man stepped into the room. This was no ordinary man, Hermione noted immediately. Everything about him seems weird and quite out of place. He was tall, with silvery auburn hair which was beginning to show the signs of old age, a pair of twinkling blue eyes, a crooked nose and a long auburn beard which was long enough to be tucked into his belt. His clothes were also unusual; he wore a long purple cloak which reached down to his ankles and high hell boots which buckled up at the knees.

The man surveyed the small room before stepping in and closing the door quietly behind him. Hermione looked more closely at him. He was also wearing half-moon spectacles, she now notices, and his blue eyes twinkled madly from behind the lenses as he stepped forward and cleared his throat.

"Ms. Hermione Granger?" he asked, offering Hermione a broad smile. Hermione could see a line of perfectly cared for teeth which showed through his smile. For some reason, she felt warmness spread through her when the stranger smiled at her. It would not be something bad after, her instincts told her.

She returned the smile, and nodded at the stranger.

"Nice to meet you, Ms. Granger. My name is Albus Dumbledore," the man began, extending his right hand.

Hermione looked at his hand with an unsure expression for a moment. Albus Dumbledore? She had not heard of such a name before. It sounded foreign and weird.

Realising her rudeness, Hermione blushed, and quickly shook the extended hand. It felt warm and soft, and she was starting to like this man already. Her instincts told her that he meant no harm, but Hermione still planned to keep her guard.

Albus Dumbledore gave her another smile, before walking away from the door, where he was leaning on and paced across the room. He was now in front of Hermione's bed.

"May I sit down here, Ms. Granger?" he asked in the same soft and kind voice. Hermione nodded and shifted her weight to one side of the bed, so that Dumbledore will be able to squeeze in beside her on the small and narrow cot where she slept.

Dumbledore kicked off his high-heel boots and sat down slowly on the bed. For a moment, both occupants in the room were quiet, both occupied with their own thoughts.

Finally, Hermione, who find it hard to contain her curiosity, broke the silence. She cleared her throat, and asked in a voice which she hoped was not too timid: "Excuse me, sir. I don't believe we've met before and I don't think I know you."

The old man looked at Hermione for a while before chuckling.

"Ah, yes. We've never met before, Ms. Granger. This is the first time. You can call me Professor Dumbledore."

"Professor?" Hermione thought. Ah, was this a psychologist? No wonder she felt so comfortable around him. He probably knew how to tackle her mind, she decided. Thus, Hermione prepared herself and maintained her guard.

With a hard expression plastered on her face, Hermione focused her gaze on the old man sitting beside her once more. His blue eyes met her hazel brown ones, and he just stared back at her through his half-moon spectacles. Hermione felt his gaze penetrating through her; she felt as though she had been thoroughly x-rayed under his gaze. For a while, both of them continued to stare at each other. Then, feeling nervous, Hermione quickly averted her gaze.

She heard a low chuckle from beside her, and turned to looked at the old man again.

"Ah, relax, my child. I'm not here to give you any counseling, and I assure you that I'm not related to any psychological departments, nor do I have any idea where the nearest asylum is."

Hermione was shocked. How was it that he was able to read her thoughts? Without knowing it, her mouth dropped open in surprise as she looked at the old man.

"How…" she started.

"Oh, never mind about that for now, child," he said, giving her a half smile. "Now, you may be wondering why am I here, right?"

"Yes, professor," she said in a low voice.

"Now, Ms. Granger, I would like you to listen very closely to what I'm saying. Doesn't be surprise about what you're going to hear," he said, shifting his weight on the bed to sit closer to her.

Hermione nodded, and settled herself more comfortably on her bed.

"As I've told you, I'm a professor. I'm the Headmaster of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizzardry."

"School of what?" Hermione asked in a disbelieving voice. She must have heard him wrongly.

"Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizzardry," Dumbledore repeated, smiling at Hermione's flustered look. "You must not have heard of it, but Hogwarts is the most prestigious and well-known school of magic in the wizzarding world. If you asked me, it is the safest place to in the world."

Hermione just nodded, and kept quiet. Why was this old man telling her about this?

"The reason I'm here, Ms. Granger…"

"Call me Hermione, professor," she managed to say.

"Fine then. The reason I'm here, Hermione, is to inform you that you have been given a place at Hogwarts."

"I what?" Hermione asked in a slightly high-pitched voice.

"You're a witch, Hermione."

"What?"

Was this a joke? She, Hermione Granger, a witch? She had been accepted at a magic school?

"Don't be surprise," Dumbledore said, patting her lightly on the shoulder. "You will understand once I told you the story of your life."

"My…story?" Hermione asked. She had turned quite white now. What was all this? Was it a joke Mrs. Cole planned to play at her, to get back at what she did to Amelia and Derrick?

"Err…professor; I think you made a mistake. Me? A witch? I mean, It's impossible…" she stuttered before Dumbledore could continue.

"Calm down, Hermione," Dumbledore said, giving her small hands a gentle pat. "I think it's time I give you your letter. Things will be easier when you've read this letter, and see things for yourself. I know it's hard to believe. After all, no one in this ordinary world will believe in a thing such as magic, eh?"

Hermione just remained silent, as she was lost of words. Dumbledore grinned before reaching into his cloak pocket and produced a large brown envelope. He handed it to Hermione, who took it with trembling hands.

The envelope was made in a heavy type of parchment, and Hermione liked the feel of it. She held it closer and read the writing at the front of it. Her eyes widened as she read the following, embossed in green ink on the envelope:

Ms. Hermione Jean Granger,

Room 13,

Wools Orphanage, London.

She turned the envelope over, and her eyes focused on a beautiful logo. At the centre was a large letter H, surrounded by four beautifully done drawings of a badger, an eagle, a lion and a snake. She looked down at the logo once more, before turning the letter over again.

"So, it's addressed to me," she said in a small voice. Dumbledore just gave her another grin.

"Open it and read what is inside. Go on," he said.

Hermione noticed that the letter was sealed tightly with a layer of wax. Cautiously, so as not to tear the letter apart, she removed the layer of wax and broke the seal. She reached into the envelope and pulled out two sheets of neatly folded parchment.

She held up the first piece of parchment, and started to read.

Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizzardry

Headmaster: Albus Dumbledore

Dear Ms. Granger,

We are pleased to inform you that you have been offered a place at Hogwarts School and Witchcraft. Please be informed that the school term will start on 1st of September. We await your owl by no later than the end of July.

Enclosed with this letter is a list of books and the necessary things which you will need for your studies at Hogwarts. We wish you all the best and hope to see you soon.

Your Sincerely,

Minerva McGonagall,

Deputy Headmistress of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizzardry.

Hermione put down the parchment and read the second piece of parchment. It contained a full book list, and the things which she need. Her eyes widened when it traveled farther down the list. A wand, telescope, a cauldron, a pet, and what else? Her mind was now racing with questions. What was this all about? She was a witch? Were her parents magic folks too? Had they studied at this school before?

She looked up at Dumbledore after folding both pieces of parchment neatly and putting it back into the envelope. He was observing her with an unreadable expression on his face. Hermione could see that he was contemplating something, and wondered what could it be.

Hermione cleared her throat nervously, and Dumbledore looked up at her. He still had that unreadable look on his face, Hermione noticed.

"Err…professor?" she began nervously. "There must be a mistake. I…I…could not be a witch, could I? After all, I don't know any magic…"

Dumbledore held up a hand to stop her before Hermione could ramble on. He offered her another broad grin before answering her.

"Not a witch, eh? Are you sure? Do you remember anything peculiar happened, such as when you felt sad or angry?"

And it was then that it all crashed down on Hermione. She finally got the answer to her questions. She was a witch indeed. Events flashed through her mind; the first incident with Marcus and Johnson getting hurt after trying to bully her; the changing of Rebecca Hudson's hair colour and the incident by the seaside. This was all magic!

"Oh." She managed to say before nodding slowly. She looked at Dumbledore with eyes as round as galleons.

"But those incidents happened by accident. I did not intend it to happen." Hermione finally managed to say after a few minutes of silence.

"Ah, we call this accidental magic. Don't worry, child. This is something normal; most witches and wizards, Muggle-borned or not will start to show their potential through accidental magic." Dumbledore gave Hermione a reassuring smile which she took comfort in. She was really beginning to like this old and kind-looking professor.

A few more awkward moments passed between the two occupants in the room. Both of them just succumbed to their own thoughts. Finally, Dumbledore broke the silence.

"Have you finished reading your letter?" he asked. Hermione nodded.

"Good. Now, I think you believed me, right?"

"Yes. In fact, I have a few questions that I'll like to ask you, professor, if it's possible," Hermione said in a timid voice.

"You can ask me anything, my dear child. However, I'll advice you to listen carefully to what I'm going to tell you first before you asked your questions. Is that alright for you?" Dumbledore asked in his kind voice.

"Err…okay, professor," Hermione said.

"Now, I'll tell as much as I can, Hermione. I'll leave out things which I deemed unnecessary and which you do not need to know at this moment."

Hermione nodded again.

Dumbledore cleared his throat and started his story.

"Would you care for a lemon drop before we begin?" he asked.

Lemon drop? Oh, she loved it. It's her favourite candy, Hermione decided. She will save up every week and bought a packet of it to enjoy when she was reading.

Her face lit up and she nodded.

"Wow, you knew about lemon drop?" she asked before she was able to stop herself.

"Ah yes, indeed. It's my favourite Muggle candy," Dumbledore said, grinning as he pulled out a big packet of lemon drop from his pocket. He took out one candy and popped it into his mouth before offering the packet to Hermione.

Hesitantly, Hermione took the packet, took one candy and returned it to Dumbledore, who pocketed it back.

"Thank you, professor. It's my favourite candy too. Err…by the way, what's a Muggle?" she asked curiously.

"Ah, I forgot. You're still new to the magical world," he chuckled before continuing, "Muggles are non-magical folks. We call them that way in the wizzarding world."

"Oh," Hermione said. "So, I'm a Muggle before I received my letter?"

"Ah, I see you're picking up fast, my dear. Yes, you're a Muggle. And, as both of your parents were Muggles, you're a Muggle-born."

"Muggle-born?" Hermione asked. Something was nagging at the back of her mind. It did not sound right. Both her parents were Muggles, which means-

"My parents did not attend Hogwarts?" she asked, just to make sure that her assumption was correct.

"No," Dumbledore said. "It's a normal thing, actually. We used to select some Muggle-born children to attend Hogwarts. Those we selected were those with potential…"

"So, you're saying that I'm one of the Muggle-burns who have the potential to enter Hogwarts?" Hermione asked. "Professor?" she quickly added, as she noticed that she sounded quite rude in her rushed manner just now.

"Yes. You do not just have the potential, Hermione. In fact, I daresay you're a famous one in our world." Dumbledore lowered his voice, and Hermione could see a sad look crossed his features as he said this.

"I'm…famous?" she asked. "Famous for what?"

"Now, this is where your story began," Dumbledore said, clearing his throat before he continued. Hermione's heart was racing madly now. He could not wait to hear more from Dumbledore.

Oh, how things change so quickly. One moment, she was going through one of the ordinary days of her life, and the next moment, a wizard popped up in her room and told her that she was a witch! How mysterious life was!

"Let's go back eleven years ago, where your story started. You were the daughter of a beautiful couple, Hugo and Emma Granger," Dumbledore said. "Both your parents were quite well-to-do. They made a living as dentists, and set up their practice in central London. They had managed to expand their business and opened a few branches as the years passed. Thus, when they finally got married, they decided to move to the countryside for a quiet life instead.

After your mother gave birth to you, both your parents packed up and left the busy city. They headed for Little Hangleton, a nice and ordinary village by the countryside, and your father managed to buy over a huge mansion there.

All was well then. The three of you settled down for a peaceful and quiet life."

Hermione listened intently. So, this was her background story which Mrs. Cole had kept from her throughout the years. She finally has the chance to find out all about her parents. However, she find it weird that she could not remember being in a huge mansion before.

"Now, just bear with me, Hermione. I'll leave that part of your story just a bit, and move on to another part. You'll understand all about it when I finished."

"Okay," Hermione said, hugging herself tightly. She was overcome by a pang of sadness as thoughts of her parents entered her mind.

"Now, let's focus on the wizzarding world.

Years ago, Hogwarts had a wonderful student, who is a brilliant wizard indeed. This wizard had excelled throughout the years at Hogwarts, and had managed to impress all his teachers. However, little did all of us know that this wizard had something up his sleeves. By the time he graduated, he had become a dark wizard. He started gathering forces to fight against the light side. His goal was world domination.

This wizard was merciless, and throughout the years, as his forces expanded, he killed and tortured whoever he liked.

It was on one particular night that he decided to visit his home, the village of Little Hangleton.

And now, we go back to your story."

Hermione suddenly sat up straight. The pieces finally clicked together. She blinked. Tears were starting to stream out of her eyes, and she hastily wiped it away using the back of her hands.

Dumbledore looked at her, and put a comforting arm around her. He had a sad expression on his face.

"He…killed them, didn't he?" Hermione asked through sobs. She leaned into the old man, and cried into his chest.

Dumbledore wrapped both arms around her, and started to rub small circles on her back, as he murmured soothing words in her ears.

After a few minutes, Hermione was able to control herself. She had let go of all her sorrow now, and found that she had no tears to cry anymore. This was the first time she had cried for the past five years. Her sadness was gone now; gone along with the tears which she had shed.

"I'm….sorry, professor. I…can't…control myself…" she said, as she took out a handkerchief from her press pocket and blew her nose.

"It's alright, child. I understand," Dumbledore said, patting her shoulders gently.

"Now, let's continue, shall we? Or would you like to keep the rest for the next time?" he asked, giving her a questioning look.

"No, I'll want to hear more about it," Hermione said in a determined voice.

"Now, this wizard went to Riddle Mansion, where you lived. It was his home, and he hated Muggles the most. So, he went there to get rid of your family.

First, he killed your father. Then, he went upstairs and kills your mother."

"What about me?" Hermione asked before he was able to stop herself again.

"Ah, this is the interesting part of our story. And this is where your previous question about how you became famous was answered.

After killing your mother, this wizard tried to kill you, but he failed to do so. Imagine this; all the people died under his wand, except you. That's what made you famous, Hermione. That's why everyone in our world knew you. You're the only one who lived, and you're just a baby of one year old. You're the girl-who-lived."

It took a while for Hermione to digest all this information. When she was able to find her voice again, she asked, "But how, professor? How on earth did I manage to survive?"

"Ah, that is the curious part, Hermione. It still remained a mystery until today. No one knows about it. However, I've a few theories that might well explain it, but never mind about that for now. I believed that it is not the right time yet. You'll know when the time is right, Hermione, and I doubt you're like what you going to hear."

Hermione's face fell. Why can't Dumbledore tell her all about it now? Nevertheless, she decided not to push further. If Dumbledore said that it was not the right time to know about all this, she will just go along with it. He must have his reasons, she figured.

Anger suddenly rises up in her. She felt angry at the wizard who had taken everything from her; her parents, her home and her happy childhood. How could someone be so cruel and merciless, she wondered. If it had not been for this terrible wizard, she will get to spend her life at the nice mansion in Little Hangleton, and her parents will still be alive. She will not be sent to this miserable orphanage, where she suffered horribly and had to keep on inspiring and motivating herself to live on. Oh, how she hated this horrible wizard!

Dumbledore had perhaps noticed Hermione's sudden change of attitude, reached out and patted her small hands again. Hermione looked into his warm twinkling blue eyes and found comfort in them. She managed to calm herself down finally and pushed the angry feeling to the back of her mind.

Absent-mindedly, she reached up and pushed a few black locks of her hair which had fallen into her eyes away. Her fingers brushed against the lightning bolt scar on her forehead, and she traced it gently with her fingers.

"Ever wonder how you got that scar?" Dumbledore broke the silence. He reached out and traced the lightning bolt scar on Hermione's forehead, just exactly how she had done it earlier.

"Yes. Mrs. Cole tale me I got it in the car crash which killed my parents. Bah! She just made it up, I guess. After all, my parents were killed by that wizard…"

"Voldemort," Dumbledore cut her off.

"Vol…what?" Hermione asked, confused as to where Dumbledore was steering the conversation now.

"The wizard was known as Lord Voldemort," Dumbledore said.

"Voldemort? That's unusual," Hermione said. She had never heard of any name like that before. Immediately, gears started to turn in her head, and she rapidly translated some familiar French phrases that may fit with the anagram Dumbledore had just mentioned.

"Correct me if I'm wrong, professor," Hermione said, mustering her courage when she had came out with the appropriate translation. "I think the name is very unusual. If you translate it from French, it could mean "flight from death"…"

A smile lit up Dumbledore's face. His blue eyes were twinkling madly behind his half-moon spectacles.

"Yes, you're absolutely right, Hermione," he said. "You're a clever one indeed."

Hermione blushed slightly at his compliment before asking her next question, before Dumbledore could continue.

"But why would someone use this unusual name?" she asked.

"Ah, Hermione. I'm afraid I cannot tell you about it right now, as the time is not quite right…"

However, Hermione, who was too excited to contain her own point of views and thoughts cut Dumbledore off before she could stop herself.

"Flight from death? Hmm. judging by the meaning, it seems that this wizard is afraid to face. Death. So, I think he will rather prefer to be immortal instead. As his worse fear is death, he will definitely find ways to be immortal. Tell me, professor, is it possible to be immortal in the wizzarding world?"

Dumbledore, who had maintained a smiling face at first, now turned quite pale. He raised his eyebrows and studied Hermione more closely. He seemed to ponder her question for quite some time before answering.

"You really are the brightest witch of your age, Hermione," he said. "I must as well tell you now that what you just said about this wizard is absolutely right. However, as for your second question, it is sometimes possible for one to be immortal in the wizzarding world, but it will involve very complicated spells; dark spells are most commonly used for this purpose. You'll get to find out soon, I assure you."

"Okay," Hermione said, blushing for the second time that day. Dumbledore had praised her to be the smartest witch of her age, and she secretly felt proud of herself.

"Oh, let's continue where we left off, shall we?" Dumbledore said.

Hermione nodded and Dumbledore continued his story.

"Everyone in our world was terrified of him; he was so evil and terrible. For years, I've persuaded everyone to speak his name, but they were too scared to even do so. He will be referred to as You-Know-Who or He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named."

Hermione shook her head. As far as she was concerned, she was not afraid of using that name, as she could see no harm in doing so.

Dumbledore paused for a moment before continuing.

"Now, as Voldemort tried to kill you, the killing curse rebounded on him, and you got this scar instead. That's why you're famous, as I've told you earlier. You're the only one to survive the killing curse. Don't be surprise; a few of our history books mentioned your name."

"Oh!" Hermione exclaimed. Wow, she was famous before she knew it! How wonderful, she mused.

"Your house was destroyed on the same night. A big fire broke out. We reached there just in time. I, who had heard of the bad news, sent the groundskeeper of Hogwarts, Rubeus Hagrid and a friend of his, Young Sirius Black to collect you from the rubble. Luckily we arrived just in time. You're saving, and we decided that the best place for you is Wools Orphanage, as we deemed it too risky to place you in the care of your mother's sister, Emily."

"I see," Hermione said. Dumbledore had no idea what she had to endure by placing her here, she thought sadly. What will be his reaction if he knew? Nevertheless, she decided not to blame him. After all, he had done the best for her to safeguard her interest, and she should be grateful for that.

"I wrote a letter, explaining everything to Mrs. Cole, the matron here. She accepted you finally after I coaxed her. I hope you have quite an enjoyable life here?"

Dumbledore's question made Hermione angry again. That woman had known all along about this, and she had kept this a secret from Hermione for eleven years. The nerve of her! If there was one person whom she wished to curse now, it will be that good-for-nothing Mrs. Cole, Hermione decided.

She quickly calms herself down when she realised that she should not be plotting against the matron. After all, she had never harmed her in any way. A few punishments were nothing compared to what Lord Voldemort had done. No, she decided she still hated Lord bloody Voldemort the most!

"That's all I've to tell you for now," Dumbledore said, straightening up.

"Err…professor? What happened to Voldemort?" Hermione asked quickly. Dumbledore had not told her what had become of him.

"Ah, I almost forgot," Dumbledore said, placing the tips of his long fingers together. "Good question, Hermione. All of us still wondered where he was now. He disappeared on the night he tried to kill you; all his powers were destroyed. Some said he died; others still believed him to be somewhere out there, rejoining his forces to fight again. As for me, I don't believe he died; wonder whether he had enough humanity in him to die…" Dumbledore trailed off thoughtfully.

"Judging by his fear of death, he must have found ways to resurrect himself. After all, who will not wish to be immortal? I don't believe he's completely gone either, professor," Hermione said, giving Dumbledore a sad look.

"Hmm," Dumbledore said.

"And professor?" she asked again. "Just one last question, if it's not too much for you."

"Ask away, my child," Dumbledore said in a cheerful tone. "I'll see whether it is possible to give you an answer now."

"Why did I have no recollection of all this? I only remembered a blinding flash of green light and a high-pitched laughter, that's all."

"Ah, Hermione. I'm really sorry about it. I had decided that it is best that you do not remember anything at all, so that your life will not be traumatized by that horrible incident. Hence, I've decided to erase your memory and let you begin a new life. Do forgive me," Dumbledore said, a sad expression crossed his features.

Hermione nodded in understanding. She understood that this old man meant her to be well and good. Nevertheless, she felt a pang of sadness as she heard this. How could he erase her memory just like that without knowing whether it was really best for her or not? After all, if she had a few happy memories, at least she could reminisce the good old times she had spent with her parents at their home in the village.

Hermione let her thoughts wander on their own accord. A sudden thought struck her. The locket. What about the locket? It is magical? For a moment, she considered asking Dumbledore about it; perhaps he will answer the entire unanswered question that she still has lingering at the back of her mind. However, she thought better of it; Dumbledore should not know about this yet, she figured. He will perhaps suspect her of getting into something no good, and Hermione did not wish to create this impression of herself, not at their first meeting.

Realising that Dumbledore was watching her, Hermione quickly averted her gaze and looked out of the small window above her bed. The sun was beginning to set now, its beautiful crimson tinge brightening the whole sky and its evening rays reflected beautifully through the glass paneling of the window.

"Hermione?" Dumbledore once again brought Hermione out of her thoughts. The little girl of eleven turned slowly and looked at Dumbledore.

"Is there something that you wished to tell me?" he asked.

Hermione was totally unprepared for this. How had he read her mind? Oh God, he must be some kind of genius, she gathered.

Trying to maintain a confident posture, Hermione looked straight into his eyes and said in a voice which she hoped was not too high-pitched, "No, professor."

Dumbledore studied her for a moment before looking away. He took out a pocket watch from his cloak pocket, glanced at it thoughtfully, placed it back in his pocket and got up from the bed.

"So, I'll be back for you tomorrow, Hermione. I'll bring you to buy your supplies and books for your first semester," Dumbledore said, buckling up his boots again.

"But professor, I do not have any money…" Hermione trailed off. In the midst of excitement, she had forgotten about this. She had no money at all, and she doubted Mrs. Cole will lend her fund from the orphanage's savings account.

"Not to worry about it. Hogwarts is a very considerate school. We tried to help some of our students out sometimes. We've financial assistance for children like you who are orphans or those who could not really afford the fees. We gave out partial or full loans to these students, and I'm happy to inform you that I, as Headmaster of Hogwarts have approved a full loan to be given to you. You need not repay the school, as the loan will help you get your supplies and books, although you have to bear in mind that you will get mostly second-hand things. I hope you're not disappointed about this, Hermione?" Dumbledore finished his little speech, and gave her a questioning look.

Hermione smiled and nodded at him. This was more than enough, she figured. She did not care whether her books and things were second-hand or old; she had used to getting handed down things which were in the worst condition one could imagine. Judging that Hogwarts is a prestigious school, she doubted that the things she got will be as bad as those she got at the orphanage.

"Thank you, professor. I really appreciate your help. I think I'll be comfortable with all the arrangements you've made; you've helped me a lot. I can't thank you enough for that." Hermione offered Dumbledore another of her warm smiles.

"Fine. I'll come for you around nine in the morning. You may wait for me outside," Dumbledore said, straightening up and heading for the door.

"Okay," Hermione said. She was so excited. Finally, she was going to leave this miserable place, and journey to a magical world. She could not wait for the day to leave and begin her new magical life.

Dumbledore took one last look at her, smiled broadly before turning the doorknob gently and stepped out of the small room. He closed the door behind him quietly. Hermione managed to catch a glimpse of his purple cloak before the door closed.

She sighed, folded up her letter, and stuffed it under her pillow. She gazed out into the evening sky thoughtfully.

She felt quite empty inside all of a sudden. She was sad that Dumbledore had to leave her for now. She was so excited chatting with him and learning things about herself which had been kept from her for the past eleven years. She succumbed to the loneliness by immersing herself into reading her novel; "The Tales of Two Cities" once more. This was the only thing that Hermione could think of doing right now, and halfway through her reading, the little girl drifted off into a peaceful and dreamless sleep.

She did not wake up for dinner; she was not very hungry, she had decided earlier. She slept soundly, a small smile playing on her lips. Nothing could replace the happiness she felt deep down inside her now. She was going to be a witch, and enter into her world, her wonderful, beautiful and magical world!

Soon, she will meet new friends, begin her new life and learn magic. Oh, how exciting this could be, she thought as she rolled onto her back and continued her slumber. Sometimes, life really did have miracles, she thought, and this was one of the greatest and most memorable miracles she ever had in her entire life. And as she slept, Hermione thought that she had not been so happy in her entire life before. She was determined to keep this happiness in her for as long as she can, she decided.

HG/LV/HG/LV/HG/LV/HG/LV

Lord Voldemort was in a bad mood that day. A very bad mood indeed. Everything was not working out as planned.

He had woke up with a terrible headache on that morning, and had gone down to breakfast at Malfoy Manor shortly after taking a headache curing draught which his most loyal follower, Severus Snape had brewed for him. He massaged his temples as he headed down to the luxurious dining room where the Malfoy family would be dining. His headache had not yet subsided, and he hoped that his inner circle will not make things difficult for him. He really had no desire to suffer a prolonged headache.

He headed down the spiraling marble staircase, passed various sculptures which were done up beautiful featuring ancient plants, beautiful sceneries, magical creatures such as centaurs; passed the drawing room, passed the great ancient library and headed down the hallway towards the east wing of the manor, where the dining room was situated.

The morning was chilly, as summer was coming to an end and autumn will be approaching soon. The cold wind seeped through his skin, and he shivered slightly. Cursing his breath, he whipped out his wand and casted a warming charm on himself. Its effects were not strong enough; he had not perfected the spell yet, and he will have to cast it again later when he felt cold.

He continued down the long hallway, decorated with mahogany furniture's, leather armchairs and tall shelves holding various antique vases of various sizes. Murals and paintings hung on every single wall, each presenting a different landscape which was so nice to look at. Ancient chandeliers hung from the ceiling, glittering like crystals and shimmering as though they have just been cleaned previously. Silver trophies and medals, boasting about the Malfoys' achievements in the wizzarding world from the beginning of their blood line lined two tall bookcases at the far end of the hallway, where an ancient looking stereo was placed, playing soft French ballet music.

The whole manor had a grand air surrounding it; what with the nice and expensive decorations which were so authentic and striking to look at that one will never took their eyes off them. Oh, the Malfoys really spent a whole lot of their fortune in doing up the who place, he mused as he continued on his way.

As he reached the dining room, he pushed open the heavy mahogany door, and entered the room. It was a brightly lit room, decorated with a green and silver carpet which ran the entire length of the floor. At the center of the room was a large round marble table, and high-backed leather chairs were lined neatly around it. The walls in here were whitewashed and gleamed as though it had just been polished. At the far end of the room, there was a small basin for one to wash their hands after finishing their meals, and across the marble table was another door, which leads directly into the kitchen, where the house elf who serviced the Malfoy family worked.

Lord Voldemort surveyed the room with a blank expression on his face. His inner circle was already there when he arrived. All of them were still in their casual clothing, munching away happily while gossiping about useless things such as the latest celebrity in the wizzarding world, the weather, the life of ministry authorities and other nonsense which he had no desire to hear. He did not care about what they talked about, as long they did his bidding for him and did not disobey his orders.

As he entered the room, silence immediately filled the room. All his followers begin to fidget nervously; some clearing their throats, others just playing with their silver cutlery while looking at him. He stepped into the room, headed for his usual seat, at the centre of the table and pulled out the heavy leather chair. He snaked down in it, and reached for his plate.

With a "pop", the house elf appeared in front of him, wearing his usual filthy uniform. Lord Voldemort wrinkled his nose in disgust, and glowered at the house elf.

"Good morning, my lord. What would you like Dobby to get you?" the house elf asked in his usual squeaky voice which Lord Voldemort thought was irritating.

"Anything is fine for me," he replied in a cold voice, before kicking out at the house elf roughly. The house elf suppressed a whimper as Lord Voldemort's foot connected with his body. He toppled over and hit his head hard on the carpeted floor. Lord Voldemort smirks; that feels better. He had let out part of his anger and frustration at that stupid elf.

The house elf quickly picked himself off the ground, blinking back tears as he headed into the kitchen. Five seconds later, he returned with a tray full of breakfast and filled up Lord Voldemort's plate.

"Here's your breakfast, my lord. Dobby will be right back with some juice for you, my lord."

The dark lord nodded curtly, before picking up his fork and started to eat his breakfast. Another second passed before the house elf emerged again from the kitchen, carrying a jug of pumpkin juice in one hand and a jug of milk in the other. He placed both jugs in front of the dark lord, bowed before him and vanished with another "pop".

Lord Voldemort ate his breakfast in silence. His headache had gotten better by now, and he was quite glad about this.

After finishing his breakfast, he called his inner circle into the drawing room for a quick meeting before all of them went out for their chores.

When all of them had gathered around the cozy fireplace in the drawing room, the dark lord cleared his throat and began the meeting.

"So, what news do we have?" he asked, surveying all of his inner circle. They looked frightened as his crimson eyes searched their faces.

"Lucius, what have you to report?" he asked when no one seems to answer his earlier question.

"My lord," Lucius begin. "I've carried out my assignment as you've instructed me the previous week. I've managed to put an Imperius curse on Deloris Umbridge, who is Fudge's secretary. She had revealed a lot of useful information that we can use to plan our ambush on the Mystery. I've got them all right in this folder." Lucius Malfoy, the owner of the manor puffed out his chest proudly as he reached into his shirt pocket, producing a shrunken folder.

With a flick of his wand, Lucius enlarged the file, and handed it over to Lord Voldemort, who flipped through it quickly before putting it down.

"This is not good at all," Lord Voldemort said. "We need to figure out how to get past the security system at the ministry first. They were still using that stupid method recommended by that old codger Dumbledore, and I myself still could not work a way round it yet."

Everyone looked frightened. They could sense that their master was angry. His dark magic crackled around him dangerously. Any minute now, one of them may be put under the Cruciatus curse when their master decided to vent his anger on them, and they will not going to like it; not when their master was angry. They knew far too well the consequences of that curse if they were to suffer it under the thirteen-and-a-half inches yew wand.

"Lucius, please continue to follow up on this," the dark lord snapped before turning away and giving his attention to his other followers. A relieved look passed over the old Malfoy's face when he heard this. He stepped back and nodded.

"Good," Lord Voldemort said. "How about you, Belatrix?"

Belatrix, the madwoman in his group eyed him quizzically with a dreamy expression on her face before answering.

"My lord," she began in a girlie voice which was made up, "I've completed the assignment you gave me. I've checked on Albus Dumbledore and the light side secretly, and I have information that they were going to set up an organization known as the Order of the Phoenix. The headquarters will be in my home at Grimauld Place."

"Ah," Lord Voldemort said. "In that case, we must hurry. We'll have no time to act when the old codger managed to pull half of the population of our world into joining the light side."

His group of followers nodded. Lord Voldemort was just contemplating what to do next when the door to the drawing room burst open, revealing a breathless Wormtail.

Every eye in the room turned to observe the small man, who had just entered the room. He panted as he made his way into the circle.

"My lord," he begins, still trying to regain his strength. "I've very bad news. Very bad indeed."

Lord Voldemort gave Wormtail a disapproving look. The man should have known better not to disturb him during meetings like this, where crucial things were being discussed. Wormtail was always a person who is full of anxiety and will break down easily, even although it is only a small matter. Thus, Lord Voldemort doubted that this could be anything really important at all, as Wormtail used to get himself into trouble and left the broken pieces of the mess he created for others to pick up.

Lord Voldemort huffed in frustration before looking up at Wormtail again. "And what would that be, Wormtail?" he asked in his cold, merciless voice. Everyone in the room immediately tensed at this tone of voice, they knew that Wormtail had indeed made the wrong decision to bother their lordship today. Most of his inner circle knew that Lord Voldemort had a bad night, and his mood was terrible that morning. They had gotten used to their master's mood swings throughout the three years he had been communicating with them. Three years after he had been resurrected, he had become more violent, cruel and merciless. No emotion was ever portrayed on his smooth and handsome face, and he went on with his usual habit of torturing and killing others [most were lower ranked Death Eaters who had displeased him] to vent his anger when he was in a tantrum.

Thus, all the others in the room parted to let Wormtail through, and gave him a sympathetic look as he made his way to where Lord Voldemort was sitting at his throne [a large leather armchair] and bowed before him.

"Do enlighten us, Wormtail," Lord Voldemort said, twirling his wand in front of Wormtail's face. He had a menacing look in his eyes, which made everyone in the room frightened the moment they caught his gaze.

"My lord," Wormtail begins in an urgent voice. "This is not good at all. It turns out that the dementors have managed to capture Barty Crouch JR whom you sent as a spy to Hogwarts. He was discovered by the warewolf, Remus Lupin when he tried to snoop around the old codger Dumbledore's office while they were having a meeting. As it turned out, he had forgotten to take Polyjuice potion that night, and his cover was blown. Mad-Eye Moody's body was found in a locked trunk in Barty's office hours later. Dumbledore immediately ordered the dementors to take him…"

Lord Voldemort was very angry. How could this happen? Now, the light side is bound to be suspicious about all this and will surely figure out in no time that he was behind all this. He had to work fast now, as preparation for their attack.

"Get out, all of you! Get out!" Lord Voldemort shouted, stomping his foot hard on the floor.

As quick as lightning, all the other occupants in the room disappeared with a swish of their cloaks. They were not ready to get in their master's way; not when they could sense what was going to come next.

"Reducto!" Lord Voldemort bellowed, waving his wand around the room. All the objects in the room burst into pieces. "Defindo! Crucio!"

The last curse he fired hit the poor house elf, who was just walking into the room, carrying a tray of refreshments. The tray immediately clatters onto the floor as the elf collapsed onto the ground, screaming at the top of his voice as he twitched and thrashed about on the ground.

"Crucio!" Lord Voldemort strengthened the curse again, after noticing the house elf. He was enjoying this very much. The gleeful sensation traveled up his whole body, making him feel fresh and ready to go again.

The house elf continued to scream and twitch on the ground. Lord Voldemort finally lifted off the curse, prodded the house elf roughly with his left foot, and with another lazy flick of his wand, he restored the room to its original situation.

Then, without even looking at the house elf, which was busy picking up the fallen tray and cleaning up the mess he had caused just now, Lord Voldemort turned away and stalked out of the drawing room.

The rest of the day was worst. Lord Voldemort found that he could not formulate a plan just yet, as most of his followers were still on important missions, and he will never dare to risk the chance of discussing this with the lower ranked Death Eaters; he still could not quite trust most of them. They will have to earn his trust if they wanted to join in this missions and plans, he decided.

So, Lord Voldemort spent the whole day in the library, reading up on the latest dark spells and mustering them. He loved to read; knowledge had an unlimited boundary, and he was going to go as far as he could to obtain all the knowledge out there in the whole world. This is one side of him which his followers never saw. When he read, his thoughts became peaceful, and he felt a sudden calmness overtook him. The feel of parchment under his fingers and the smell of old leather made him comfortable. Often, when he finished a particular book, a small smile will play on his lips, although it will never reach his gray eyes.

Thus, on certain nights, if one of his followers indeed happened to pass through the great ancient library, they will find their master there, sitting in his favourite armchair by the cozy fireplace, with both of his feet propped up onto the coffee table which he had conjure in front of him. He will be thumbing through one of the thick and dusty tomes, as he sipped a glass of wine. They will be surprised to see the way he looked; so relaxed and harmless that they will not believe him to be the same person who was their leader when he conducted meetings with them. This is because at other times, when he was discussing crucial issues with his followers, his expression remained blank; he never smiled, or joked along with his followers. He will never even give them a warm welcome or congratulate them when they have completed their assignments. For him, they had chosen to serve him voluntarily, and should be grateful that he did not torture or kill them. He had no reason to give them any motivation to continue serving him by carrying out his biddings. As far as he was concerned, they could leave if they were not happy about this, but he doubted they dare to do so. He had a hold over all of them, he was sure of it, and not a single of them will dare to turn against him. They knew quite well the consequences of disobeying him, and they will probably not try anything funny at all. His control over them was so powerful, he mused.

Soon, the whole wizzarding world will be under his rule, and he will then expand his influence to dominate the whole world. He will be a great ruler, with his policies and strategic choices. He was sure that the wizzarding world will be made a better place when he was able to make all the right choices and eliminate unworthy people from it, especially filthy Muggles. In his opinion, Muggles do not deserve to be part of his world; they will just bring shame to the wizzarding world as they have no magic blood in them. Besides, with the stupid way Muggles nowadays think and act, he was sure that the wizzarding world will be doomed if they were to be a part of it. He will not let this happen.

Actually, not many knew the real reason he hated Muggles. Yes, most of them probably thought that he hated Muggles as his own father was a filthy Muggle who had abandoned him when he was small. He did not deny this fact at all; he really hated that old fool of a father. This had brought about the murder of all the Muggles in the village of Little Hangleton, where his father lived. He murdered both his grandparents as well.

However, not many knew that his hatred for Muggles increased after he had been destroyed; destroyed by a stupid Muggle baby. And to make it worse, it was a baby girl. Lord Voldemort was angry as thoughts of the night he was destroyed flashed through his thoughts.

Sometimes, he wondered what had happened to that baby. He had heard throughout the three years where he had begun his new life in this world that she had become famous. He had lost everything, everything he had owned; power, followers and his life, just because of this crazy little mudblood. He was going to get his revenge, and he was sure of it. He will kill that mudblood himself. When the time is right, he will seek her out and blast off his enemy, his most hated enemy of all time. She had put him through hell unknowingly; five miserable years passed before he was able to resurrect himself. He had to suffer as his body was terribly deformed, and he had to work fast to protect himself from fading into nothingness. After his resurrection at the graveyard, he had to suffer some other complications for at least two years, before he was able to return to his normal life, which had lasted for three years until today. He was not going to let that mudblood off so easily, not after what she had caused him.

However, he never bothers to find out about her name or whereabouts as for now. He had heard through snippets of conversation between his inner circle that the mudblood was known as Hermione granger. Quite a nice name, he mused, but it had to be a waste that such a beautiful name was bestowed upon a mudblood. For him, she could wait later. He will dominate the world first before tackling the girl. It would be easier this way, he figured. When he got all the others all stuck under his wings, one little Muggle would definitely not be any problem at all.

Lord Voldemort leaned back on his chair, and yawned. Perhaps he should go for a walk in the gardens, he decided. His headache still had not improved. He will need another draught, he figured. Right now, he figured that some fresh evening air will be best.

He was just getting up from the armchair when a brown barn owl swooped in through the window, zoomed towards him and dropped a letter in his hands. Roughly, he reached out and ruffled the owl's feathers, making the poor bird hoot disapprovingly before taking off.

Lord Voldemort turned the envelope over and read it before opening it. This had to be another bad news, he gathered. He started to read the letter, which had been written in a quick and bold hand. It seems that the person writing this letter was in a hurry to get this to him as fast as possible.

My lord,

Our cover is going to be blown soon. After Barty Crouch JR's arrest, Albus Dumbledore was beginning to suspect that I'm a spy as well. I decided to pull out of your group, to safeguard my own interest. Kill me if you deemed it necessary; I had nothing to fear about, for Hogwarts is the safest place in the whole wizzarding world. I assure you that I'll remain loyal to the light side after this, and told Dumbledore everything that is necessary. However, I'll still do you a favour, my lord, due to our long term relationship and the good treatment that you've given me. It's time I end our bond, and I'm really sorry about this. I had a hard time making this decision; I still have a family to care for, and I deemed it unwise if I continued to serve you, as your success seemed to be unguaranteed. I will not give you false hope for this, but bear in mind that the light side seems to be getting stronger, and I see it fit for me to join the light side instead. Thus, here is what I'll do for you; I'll keep all that we have planned and discussed to myself, unless someone decided to ask me about it. By that time, I'm afraid I cannot hold my tongue any longer, mind you, the veritaserum will undoubtfully loosen my tongue on its own accord, and as a clever man, you must have known about its side effects. Thus, you cannot blame it totally on me if your cover is blown, for I really have no say at all. It is all not up to me.

And, thereby, please accept my resignation as your spy for the light side. I'm totally shaken by Barty's arrest and I personally do not think that all this is doing me any good. I'm Head Boy after all in the school, and people will be suspicious if I acted weirdly around them.

Yours truly,

Blais Zabini

P.S. You are still considered as one of my greatest tutors. Thanks for the lectures and practices you gave me in Defence against the Dark Arts. You may drop by our mansion and visit soon, as you're always welcome there. Take care, Lord Voldemort, and I wished you all the best for your future.

Lord Voldemort's face was unreadable, as he pocketed the letter. His gray eyes flashed red, showing his anger. His temper was flaring now. The dark magic around him crackled dangerously around him, sending shivers down the spines of anyone who happened to be in the same room at that very moment.

Without warning, his magic exploded out of him before he could control it. The bookcases collapsed, spilling books of all categories onto the beautifully polished marble floor. Lord Voldemort snarled angrily, blasting a few pieces of furniture's in the library along the way. How could his second spy turn him down? How dare that insufferable Zabini reject him just like that? Why was his plan backfiring so badly these few months?

The boy will pay for it, he decided. He will ask his most loyal follower [another spy], Severus Snape to get rid of Zabini. He was Head Boy this year at Hogwarts, and it will make things more easier, what with Zabini been placed in his own house, Slytherin, where he could easily manipulate one of his other followers or Snape to get rid of him. No one will ever suspect a thing; after all, Slytherins were well-known for their mysteries, he mused, as the incident about fifty years ago played back in his memory. No one suspected him, Head Boy during his time, had opened the Chamber of Secrets and set the Basilisk on Morgana Myrtle. How clever had he managed to fool most of the professors and students at Hogwarts, he mused as he stomped out of the great ancient library after restoring it into its original situation.

Lord Voldemort put a hand on his temples, and massaged his head gently. The headache was getting worse. He needed a place to calm himself, and some fresh air. He needs to clear his thoughts and calm down before strategizing a plan to get rid of Zabini. The gardens in Malfoy manor will not do the trick, he figured.

He needed somewhere beautiful, peaceful, quiet and relaxing. He needed some air; not just fresh air, but a different type of air, other than that of the Malfoy gardens. He needed some countryside air, and he knew exactly where he wanted to go. The place has been nagging the back of his mind for some time now. The last time he had been there, he was in a hurry, and did not manage to look at the place more properly. Now, he figured it will be the best time to revisit the place which he loved the most as a child.

Thus, with one particular location in mind, Lord Voldemort went into his chambers, changed into a set of new black robes, and prepared to leave the manor. As an afterthought, he opened a cabinet at the corner of his room, and selected a bottle of wine from his huge collection within. This will make it more relaxing, he thought as he shrunk the bottle with a flick of his wand and put it into his pocket. He will just relax for a while before going back to business.

Having done that, Lord Voldemort straightened up, smoothed out his black robes and apparated away from Malfoy Manor. He was gone with a swish of his cloak as he turned on the spot and disappeared into the night.

HG/LV/HG/LV/HG/LV/HG/LV

Lord Voldemort felt the cooling sea breeze before his foot even touched the soft sandy ground beneath him. He opened his eyes and inhaled deeply. Ah, it had not changed much, he noticed. The air here was so refreshing. He breathed in a few more gulps of air, before surveying the beach more closely.

It had not changed much, he noted. Soft golden sand washed in and out as the tide lapped against the rocks and large boulders of various sizes, lined up neatly at the beach, near the water's edge. The water was as clear as crystal, gleaming with an ocean blue colour which is so nice to look at. Seashells littered the beach, and the cool salty breeze blew at intervals, their coolness seeping through one's skin and making warmth spread through their whole body as it is so refreshing and sweet to breathe in. It is no wonder Lord Voldemort had fallen in love with this place the first time he visited it, on a sunny summer's morning when he was just nine years old.

Lord Voldemort shifted his weight from foot to foot, gritting his teeth as memories flashed before his eyes. His sad childhood will haunt him for the rest of his life, he gathered, but he will not let anyone know about this. After all, all of them thought quite highly of him now. He had already lost two faithful followers who were in his inner circle in a single day, and he was not prepared to lose more than that. His plans will be thwarted if this happened.

He closed his eyes, trying to block those unpleasant memories from his mind. He could not let this happen to him often, he gathered. It disturbed him greatly.

"What did you do, Tom? Answer me!" the matron of the orphanage in which he lived in was shouting at him. Her voice still rang clearly in his head now. He will never forget that incident, for it had been that incident which had made him decide to choose this path to walk on; the path towards evil and world domination. He had had enough already by then; this incident had at last pushed him to his limits.

Who did they think they were, he mused now, uncorking the bottle of wine which he had brought along, and pouring himself a generous amount into a goblet which he conjured. They could not blame him for the mysterious disappearance of those two kids. He did not even know a thing. They had just offered to play hide-and-seek with him, and had forced him into it. He had just played along with them, up until the point where they disappeared, when they reappeared, they looked scared and shaken, and he had absolutely no idea of what had happened to the both of them back then.

Just because of that horrible incident, the whole orphanage's attitude towards changed completely. He was treated badly, brutally assaulted by Mrs. Cole and beaten by that old fool of a man Ros Thomas, who was Mrs. Cole's cousin, if he caught the rumours right. It was at that point that he decided that he had had enough of this.

From that day onwards, he made a promise to himself;b he will rise to power one day and will strive to achieve this goal. Then, he will slowly let those who had made his life miserable suffer what they deserved to get in return for mistreating him.

He was halfway through already, wasn't he? Hadn't he eliminated his father and grandparents in the world? Haven't he gotten his revenge on Morgana Myrtle who always followed him around and try to flirt with him by setting off the basilisk on her" Haven't he killed his employer, Mr. Berg of Borgin and Berg after the former had assaulted him brutally? A malicious smile spread over his face as he thought of his previous achievements. Yes, he was on the way to become the greatest wizard of all time, Lord Voldemort! Soon, he will dominate the whole world and get whatever he wanted. All the fools like that old codger Dumbledore [which he hated the most of all people] will be swept clean and out of his way.

Lord Voldemort finished his wine, and poured himself another helping. He settled down comfortably on a large boulder at the water's edge, and submerged his feet into the warm sea water. The water lapped against his foot, making him feel relaxed, as he continued to sip his wine.

He gazed up into the night sky. The night was clear, and the moon was hanging above his head, and stars were everywhere. He admired the beauty for a while, before continuing to dive into his own thoughts.

Half an hour later, Lord Voldemort felt much better, and decided that he was ready to get back to business. He straightened up, vanished the now empty wine bottle, and started to dust off sand from the back of his black robes.

As he was just preparing to apparate back to Malfoy Manor, a sudden thought crossed his mind. He wondered about his old home, Wools Orphanage for a moment. The last time he had been there, he had heard howls and laughter's from within, and he had left. He had not fully looked through that place. He wondered whether his old room was still used. Maybe Mrs. Cole had let other children sleep in it, he mused. He longed to check it out, just to ease his curiosity. After all, it was already very late into the night, and the place will be quiet. He will just have a quick look at the building, and try to peep into his room [if it was still there] through the crack in the window [if it had not been mended yet], and then he will be off.

Making up his mind, he closed his eyes, and concentrated on his destination. Barely two seconds later, he apparated directly in front of the old grey building which he once called home years ago.

The building still looked the same; with its rusty grill gates and high windows with iron panels. The garden was small and empty, as before. Only a few potted plants lined the front wall, just enough to catch the attention of visitors who passed by the orphanage. He guessed that the interior will still be the same; with the small and stuffy dining room at the lower floor, Mrs. Cole's quarters and the maid's chambers down the hallway, and the nursery on the left. Upstairs will be where all the orphans slept, and then, on the second floor, there will be the cellar, a stairway leading up to the attic, and finally, his room. He wondered whether the room still looked the same.

The night was quiet; not a sound can be heard from within the building. All of the occupants of the building had perhaps gone to bed at this hour of the night. He felt glad about it, for he will not have to endure any pathetic sounds made by those stupid Muggle children in there.

After gazing at the building for a few more minutes, Lord Voldemort let out a deep sigh and walked a few paces back. He spread both of his hands wide, and channeled all his energy into what he planned to do next. In the next few seconds, he was flying above the building, circling around it, until he reached the spot he had in mind. Cautiously, he lowered himself onto the sill of the window of his small room, and peered into the dark room from outside. The crack in the window had not been mended, it seems. Through the open window, he could still smell the damp and misty air inside the room, which he had endured for the time he lived in this horrible place called his home.

Lord Voldemort leaned in closer, his nose pressing against the old and cheap glass of the window. It seems that someone was occupying his room. Could it be another orphan, he wondered. Why must he or she be separated from the rest of the others? Was there another wizard or witch living in here?

As fast as the thought entered his mind, it disappeared as he pushed it away. Why would he care at all, it was not his business after all.

He looked into the room, and his eyes focused on the figure lying in the small narrow cot in the room. It was a girl, he gathered, judging by the long locks of black hair that fall down her back. She was quiet a small girl, he noticed. She was lying on her back, and he could just hear her even breathing from where he was now.

Lord Voldemort gazed down at the sleeping form. The girl was quite thin, he noticed, and her skin was quite pale. He wondered what had caused this girl to get the room all to herself once more. As he shifted his position to get a better look at his room, he could just make out a thick novel on the bed beside her which had been half-opened and marked carelessly. Perhaps the girl had fallen asleep while reading, he gathered. It looked that this girl had the same habit as him, when he was a child. Come to think of it, he now noticed that the girl was sleeping in the same position as he used to when he was a child back then. How weird, he mused. Maybe staying in this room made them similar, he mused again. He bent down and squinted at the title of the novel. "A Tale of Two Cities". Oh, did the girl love Dickens' books too? He remembered that he used to enjoy those Muggle novels when he was living in that orphanage. He will return to his room after school, and read to past his time.

"What am I doing?" he suddenly snapped. He had caught himself off guard, by gawking at an ordinary Muggle. It must have been the alcohol which he had consumed that trigger this reaction in him, he gathered.

Suddenly, the figure stirred. Lord Voldemort quickly shrank back into the shadows, and let himself down onto the ground once more. He was not going to risk the chance of being discovered by someone else, not even a Muggle. He quickly turned on the spot and disappears into the night.

HG/LV/HG/LV/HG/LV/HG/LV

Hermione sat up in bed with a start. A burning pain was searing through her scar. She cupped her hands over her forehead, starting to massage the scar. Her head was pounding painfully. Her skull felt as though it was going to split open any moment.

Why was this happening again, she wondered. Three years had passed since the last time this occurred. She should have asked Dumbledore about it earlier, she gathered. She was too nervous at that time to phrase that question to Dumbledore.

Cold sweat was running down her cheeks now, and she wiped it absent-mindedly with the back of her hands. What had happened?

She looked out of the window, and her eyes suddenly fell on a form. There was someone outside her window, he gathered. Who could it be, she wondered. Could it be Dumbledore, she wondered. However, she pushed this thought away from her mind after giving it a few moments thought. He had promised to come for her on tomorrow morning, and it was now probably the middle of the night, judging by the dark sky outside.

Hermione squinted closer at the shadow, but what she saw was only the dark sky and trees outside. Was that a trick of the light, she wondered. She was sure that she saw someone just now.

The pain in her scar had ceased now, and Hermione felt relieve washed over her. She was probably too nervous, she gathered. She will just relax and go to bed now.

She reached for the novel on her bed, marked it properly and placed it in a drawer of her side table. She had probably fallen asleep while reading just now, and had marked the page carelessly, she gathered.

Then, she went into the small bathroom in her room, splashed cold water onto her face and climbed back into bed. She pulled the covers tightly around her, and closed her eyes.

Soon, Hermione drifted off into sleep, with excitement still bubbling up in her stomach. She could not wait until tomorrow, where she would enter the magical world for the first time, when Dumbledore bring her to get her supplies.

A smile played on her face as this thought entered her mind. She rolled onto her side and continued her light slumber peacefully.

HG/LV/HG/LV/HG/LV/HG/LV

^^ Yay! It's finally done! Hope all of you liked it! Can't wait for your wonderful reviews!

^^ Next chapter will be up soon!

~~ Hermione Hean Fui ~~

"


	7. Chapter 7THE DIARY AND THE WAND

Author's note:

Hello there! Here is a new chapter! Do read and review! Hope all of you liked it, as usual. Enjoy!

Hermione – The Dark Lady: Thanks for your wonderful review. Glad you liked my story. Hope to hear more from you soon.

And now, on with the story!

HG/LV/HG/LV/HG/LV/HG/LV

Chapter 7: The Diary and the Wand

Hermione's alarm clock went off at seven-thirty. The little girl immediately sat bolt upright, reached for the old clock and switched it off. Sleep was all gone from her mind now, for this was the day that she had been waiting for so eagerly, although it was hardly a day ago that she discovered her true self. Today, she was going to set foot into her world; the world made out for her, the world where she belonged, and most important of all, the world where she was famous and looked upon highly by the folks there. She was going to leave all her misery behind in less than two months after this, and she was very glad about this. No longer will she be tormented, teased or treated badly by the children here, and no longer will that horrible woman of a matron, Mrs. Cole boss her around as though she was the orphanage's slave. In the wizzarding world, no one will call her a freak; no one will think that she was weird, as all of them probably have seen enough of magic in their lives.

A broad smile lit up Hermione's small face, as she swung her legs over the edge of the bed and went into the bathroom. She brushed her teeth, took a quick shower, and then looked in her wardrobe for something presentable for the trip today. After pondering her options, she finally selected an orange satin dress, which Martha; the daily help had bought for her on her seventh birthday. At that time, their relationship was still excellent, and Martha will always buy her gifts to please her. Although they were mostly dresses or books, she loved them and will thank Martha for her generosity.

Thing have changed, Hermione thought sadly as she slipped into the dress. It fitted her perfectly, showing her perfect figure, which was not too plump or too thin. To sum it up, the dress looked as though it was specially tailored for her. It was quite a simple dress; with small sunflowers embroided on the front, puffed sleeves, and a ribbon at the back, where one can tie it into a bow if they liked.

Hermione than combed her hair and pulled it back in a tight bun. She was not going to make her hair into a ponytail this time, she decided. She planned to show Dumbledore just how creative she was. Another smile lit up her face at the thought of the kind old man. Hermione gazed at her reflection in the mirror above her dresser and smiled satisfactorily when she saw how well dressed she was today.

She did not looked like someone from an orphanage at all, she mused.

The rest of the morning was spent in her room. Hermione had no desire to go down to the dining room to have breakfast. Surely she will be teased again by the other children [if they feel up to it] and tormented by Mrs. Cole. For some reason, the woman will always have something to criticize Hermione about whenever they bumped into each other. She was definitely not going down there to spoil her happy mood now, thank you very much.

Hermione passed the hour by reading her unfinished novel. As time passed, she was getting more and more nervous. Finally, with a huff, she marked her page and put down the book; she could not read anymore, she gathered. Nothing seemed to make sense to her for the time being. She will just wait until she got back from getting her things, she decided. Then, she will be able to concentrate fully on what she was reading.

Hermione ticked off the minutes with her fingers. Her agitation and excitement increased as the hands of the clock moved closer to point at nine o'clock. Any time now, Dumbledore will be here to collect her. She was already prepared for his arrival.

Five minutes before nine, Hermione straightened up, and started to make her way downstairs. Before she opened the door of her room, she glanced at her reflection in the mirror for one last time and find that everything was in place. She headed down the hallway, passed the dining room, which was bustling with activity, passed Mrs. Cole's living quarters and headed straight for the front door.

Just as she was stepping into the sunny gardens of the orphanage, there was a soft "pop" and the next moment, she was staring into a pair of twinkling blue eyes. Hermione blinked. How could someone just appear like this? This was amazing, Hermione thought.

Dumbledore stepped forward, and extended his right hand towards Hermione. Hermione took his extended hand, and gave it a warm and welcoming shake. They both smiled at each other for a moment, before Dumbledore stepped beside Hermione.

"You look pretty in that dress," he commented, looking Hermione up and down.

Hermione suppressed a blush. "Thank you, professor. That's the best that I have for now."

Dumbledore gave her another warm smile, and for a moment, Hermione thought that she could detect a hint of sadness behind his twinkling blue eyes.

"Are you ready to go?" Dumbledore asked. Hermione nodded eagerly, and her heart skipped a beat.

"Now, as you are still under age, we'll be going there by side along apparation. I will guide you; you just need to relax," Dumbledore said, putting a gentle hand on Hermione's shoulders.

"Apparation?" Hermione asked, giving the old man a questioning look.

"Oh, pardon me, child. I forgot that you're still new to our world," Dumbledore chuckled, an apologetic look crossing his features. "Apparation is a method used by wizards and witches which are of age to go to places they desire. It is a very quick process. One will appear in the place they wanted to go in just a few seconds."

"So, you traveled here by apparation just now, professor?" Hermione asked. No wonder Dumbledore could just pop up like this, Hermione figured. This is amazing, and she could not wait until she was able to do it on her own in the future.

"Yes," Dumbledore nodded, offering Hermione a lemon drop from the packet in his pocket, which he had produced. Hermione accepted it and popped it into her mouth with a smile.

"Apparation is quite complicated, and if one was not careful in the process, he or she will be splinched; meaning that their body parts will be separated and scattered in various locations."

Hermione shuddered at the thought of this. She will learn it properly, she decided. After all, she had no desire to be splinched; it will definitely be a horrible sight to witness.

"Don't worry, child. If you are careful and follow the procedures correctly, you will turn up in the place you wished to go in good shape," Dumbledore assured her, after looking at her worried look. Hermione just nodded.

"Now, to apparate, you need to have three things in mind; destination, deliberation and determination. Close your eyes. Concentrate hard on your destination, picture the place in your mind as clear as possible, and it will increase your determination. After assuring that you have the deliberation to travel to this place, turn on the spot swiftly. You will be right at the place you wanted to go when you open your eyes. And that's just it!"

"Wow," Hermione said, "that sounds wonderful and exciting. Destination, deliberation and determination."

Dumbledore smiled at Hermione again.

"Now, having said that, I think it's time we go gets your things. Ready?"

"As ready as I'll ever be, professor," Hermione said.

Dumbledore stepped closer to Hermione and extended his right arm. "Now, take my arm. That's it, child. Close your eyes."

Hermione obeyed. "Now, relax. Mind you, this might be a bit suffocating."

Hermione did as she was told. Slowly, she let go of all worries and feelings, and relaxed her whole body and mind.

"Now concentrate hard. The place that we're going to go first is Diagon Alley. Just think of the place in your head. Don't worry, I'll be right beside you."

Hermione obeyed once more. "Diagon Alley, Diagon Alley, Diagon Alley." Her mind kept on chanting the two words.

"And now, off we go," Dumbledore said, and turned on the spot slowly. Hermione felt as though her whole body was being compressed into a tube. She found it suffocating and difficult to breath. She was about to scream when the compression stopped. She blinked and opened her eyes.

Her eyes widened in surprise. They were no longer in the empty gardens of Wools Orphanage, for she could no longer see the gray building with its iron panels and grill gates. Instead, they were standing directly in front of a brick wall which was hidden behind a large dustbin.

Dumbledore smiled after noticing her reactions. "So, how do you find apparation?" he asked after Hermione had managed to calm herself.

"It's…quite wonderful, save the suffocation part," Hermione answered truthfully. Dumbledore just grinned and stepped in front of the brick wall.

"You'll get used to it when you started practicing in the future," he said. Hermione watched excitedly as Dumbledore reached into his pocket, and produced a wooden stick. Wow, was this a wand?

"Professor, is that a wand?" Hermione asked before she could stop herself. Dumbledore gave her a wink and held the wooden stick up for Hermione's inspection.

"Wow, I can't wait to get one of these," she said, staring open-mouthed at the wooden stick in the old man's right hand.

Dumbledore just gave her another grin before turning to face the brick wall.

"Now, are you in for another wonderful surprise?" he asked. Hermione nodded eagerly. She could not wait to see more magic.

"Two across, and three upwards," Dumbledore murmured to herself, "now, that's right."

Hermione watched as Dumbledore tapped a few bricks at the center of the wall. In front of her own eyes, she saw the bricks start to move and rumble. This was just like the brick wall back in the sea cave, she thought. She wondered what will be on the other side this time.

"Muggles will not notice this, in case you're wondering," Dumbledore said. "They probably did not think twice to look behind that big dustbin." Dumbledore said. Hermione nodded. How clever, she mused.

The bricks stopped moving, and in the center of the wall, there was a big hole, which was large enough for a few people to squeeze into it.

"After you, Hermione," Dumbledore said, gesturing Hermione forward.

Hermione's heart skipped another beat as she walked towards the hole. She was here at last. She was going to step into the magical world!

Taking a deep breath, Hermione squeezed through the hole, and emerged onto the other side.

Her mouth fell open in surprise when her eyes focused on the sight before her. There was a winding cobblestone pathway, with various shops as one walked along it. The shops were brightly lit; most of them selling rare items. Hermione continued to stare around her.

She turned when she heard a low chuckle from behind her. Dumbledore was smiling up at her, his blue eyes twinkling madly behind his half-moon spectacles.

"Professor, this is…oh!" she was loss for words.

Dumbledore stepped in line beside her, and started to steer her forward. They passed several shops, and Hermione could not help craning her neck and turning her head in every possible direction to look through the windows of every single shop they passed through.

There were shops selling telescopes, shops selling cauldrons, books, parchment and ink, uniforms and so many other interesting things that Hermione had to stop herself from gawking. They bumped into several other people along the way, each of them carrying large shopping bags containing most of the things sold in the shops.

"Now, where do you want to go first, Hermione?" Dumbledore asked, producing a small leather pouch from his pockets at the same time.

Hermione was so excited that she did not even know which shop to look into first. After giving it some thought, she finally decided to go and get her books first.

"Fine then. First stop will be Flourish and Blotts," Dumbledore announced, handing the leather pouch to Hermione.

"Your money from the loan," Dumbledore said when Hermione gave him a questioning look. Hermione took the pouch and opened it. Inside, she saw three different types of wizard coins.

"These are Knuts, Sickles and Galleons," Dumbledore started to explain, teaching Hermione how the money system in the wizzarding world worked. As a bright student, all of this was quickly absorbed into her mind. Hermione nodded when Dumbledore had finished and they continued on their way.

Flourish and Blotts was quite a large shop, which will immediately catch the eyes of those who looked at all the other shops on the beautifully decorated street. It stood out easily, as it was sandwiched between a large shop selling Potions supply and another shop selling Quidditch equipments, according to the large and colourful sign which hung at the front door. [Hermione had no idea what Quidditch was, but she kept it to herself. She will perhaps ask Dumbledore about it later, she decided.]

They stepped into the beautifully decorated bookshop. As they entered, a light bell tinkled, and the smell of old leather immediately caught Hermione's sense of smell. She gazed around her. There were books of various sizes, piled neatly on tall bookcases and high shelves. Near the window, a tall bookcase displayed books which were on discounts, with large stickers and tags hanging above the shelf and facing the window, so that passer-bys will have no trouble noticing them, as they were done up nicely with attractive large letters which shimmered and glittered when the rays of sunlight reflected upon them. Hermione felt excitement bubbling up in her again. Never in her life had she came across so many books before, not even in an ordinary bookshop, where she will normally spent her time when she had a free period during recess. It was just across from the primary school where she was studying, and she will sit there until she heard the school bell rang in the distance. She will pick a book, sit cross-legged on the floor and thumbed through it. The bookshop owner did not seem to mind it at all; in face, she always welcomed Hermione into her shop and sometimes, when she felt up to it, she will offer Hermione a light treat such as a bar of chocolate or some cookies.

Hermione was brought out of her musings by Dumbledore's voice.

"Now, we'll just give Mr. Blotts over there the booklist. He will be sure to pack all the necessary books for you," Dumbledore said. "I'll get your books for you, Hermione. Perhaps you'll love to wander around on your own while we wait for your books to be ready?"

"Okay," Hermione said, handing the booklist to Dumbledore. As Dumbledore made his way towards the counter, where a plump wizard sat, Hermione glanced around the bookshop. There were so many isles, that she had trouble deciding which isle to explore first. Finally, after pondering her options, she headed for the isle which was at the far end of the shod. "Dark Arts" was written on a large tag which hung at the isle's entrance. Hermione pushed passed the large plastic tag, and started to gaze at the titles displayed on the shelves. "Dark Arts of the Modern Times", "Modern Theory of Defence: 101 Dark Curses and Their Countercurses", "Magic's Darkest Potential", "Journey through the Dark World of Magic", and oh, the list just went on and on. Hermione pulled down book after book from the shelves and started to thumb through them. Oh, how she wished she could read all the books here! For a crazy moment, Hermione imagined herself buying all the books in the shop. She will be as happy as a merry soul then. No longer will she be lonely, for she will get to read all of the books she bought. Oh, wouldn't that be wonderful?

Hermione sighed, and placed the last book back onto its respective shelf. She went on to the next shelf, and found more interesting titles there. She skimmed through the books quickly, and moved on to another shelf when she had finished with the current one.

Hermione sighed with relief and awe as she reached the end of the isle. All the books there were so interesting. She secretly hoped that she will be able to purchase one of the titles there, but she knew that will be impossible, as her loan was probably just enough to cover her expenses for her main supplies.

She was about to turn away when she heard footsteps behind her. Thinking that it was Dumbledore, she turned around, and came face-to-face with another wizard. It was not Dumbledore after all.

The wizard was tall and thin, with blond hair, watery blue eyes and a mouth which curved upwards into a smirk. He wore dark robes and boots which had an expensive heir about it when one looked at it. To sum it all up, everything that this wizard wore had a certain grand air surrounding them. He must be a well-to-do wizard, Hermione thought.

However, a strong sense of dislike quickly swelled up in Hermione the moment she set eyes on this wizard. He had a certain smug and arrogant look about him which Hermione disliked immediately. She figured that this wizard was probably not the person that she wished to mess with, as she had no desire to get into trouble. She was still new here, and she doubted that rich aristocrats like that wizard [she assumed that this was the case] will be as kind as Dumbledore.

Her instincts told her to distance herself as fast as possible from the wizard before it is too late. Her instincts were normally right, and she started to turn away and walk into the opposite isle.

Before she managed to turn into the other isle which is "Transfiguration and Ancient Runes", she felt a hand on her shoulder. She let out a small gasp and turned around. She stared straight into the pale blue eyes of the wizard. He had managed to catch up with her, and she must act fast now. She had a bad feeling that trouble will come soon if she did not leave soon.

"Ahem," the wizard started to clear his throat, not taking his eyes off Hermione. Hermione fidgeted slightly and tried to offer him a half smile.

The wizard paused for a moment before continuing.

"Good morning, young lady. First year, I assumed?" the wizard said, giving her a smile. Hermione noticed that he spoke in a drawling and bored voice, which she immediately disliked.

Hermione tried to give him a half smile and nodded silently.

"Ah, I see you're wandering off into other sections, little girl. "Dark Arts" for a first year, eh? Are you sure you can handle it?" he drawled, giving Hermione another quizzical look.

Swallowing hard, Hermione forced out, "Excuse me, sir. I've every right in deciding what is good for me and what is not. Sorry if I seemed rude, but I don't think that what I decided to browse through concerned you, as it's not your business."

The smile on the wizzard's face faltered, and it was replaced with a scowl. Nevertheless, he quickly masked it with another half smile before answering.

"Oh, is that so?" he drawled. "In case you're wondering, I'm Lucius Malfoy, the Governor of Hogwarts, where you will probably be going to in a few weeks time."

It seemed that this wizard was hinting at something, and Hermione, after a few minutes, got his message. He was threatening her, it seems. She was not afraid of this. She had handled various situations similar to this one in her primary school, where she would have to defend herself when one of her awful classmates taunt her and accused her of something which she had never done before. Thus, she was more than prepared to face this wizard now. She did not care whether she sounded rude; he had mocked her and disturbed her earlier. She had no intention of getting to know this Mr. Malfoy or whoever he was.

Pulling herself to her full height, Hermione looked straight into the wizzard's eyes, and said in a confident voice: "Oh, I see."

"So, you will watch your mouth, kid, or you will find that your year at Hogwarts turning up unpleasant," the wizard forced out, smirking at Hermione. "The old fool of a Headmaster will not be able to do much, I'm afraid."

The nerve of this wizard, Hermione fumed angrily. How dare he insult Dumbledore like that? She was sure to hate this man for her whole life, she decided.

"I will watch my mouth, don't worry. I believe that it's time for me to go find my guardian. Good day to you, Mr. Malfoy, and please accept my apology if I offended you," Hermione said. She had no desire to face this horrible arrogant wizard any longer.

"Oh, don't worry. We Malfoys have a large and warm heart. We forgive other people's mistake easily. Seeing that you're a first year, which is the same as my son, I'll definitely forgive you, little girl. Make sure not be rude to me again next time we meet." He smirked.

Anger was welling up in Hermione and she tried her best to control it. She had no desire to harm this wizard, as she will really land herself in hot soup. She was not going to let her accidental magic lash out at this wizard; she was not prepared to face the consequences, thank you very much.

"I don't believe you've properly introduced yourself, young lady," the wizard said before Hermione could turn away. "May I have the pleasure of meeting you, so that I can introduce my son, Draco to you? I'm sure the two of you will get along just fine, as he was also interested in the dark arts."

Hermione turned away quickly. Meeting the father was enough for her, she do not think that she could tolerate his son. They were probably the same; arrogant, boastful, smug-looking and disgusting to look at. She wished that she could hex them right on the spot; perhaps turning them into white ferrets, which no doubt suit them well [if the son looked just like the father, Hermione mused]. She had read about that spell in a book which she had browsed through just now.

"I believe that is unnecessary, Mr. Malfoy. You will not know me, as I'm new to the wizzarding world." Hermione started to walk away, but Lucius Malfoy caught up with her and put a hand on her shoulder to stop her. She gingerly pushed his hands away and turned around to face him.

"New?" he said, looking her up and down. "What do you mean new?"

"Well, if you must know, Mr. Malfoy, I'm a Muggle-born," Hermione said, hoping that this will do the trick.

Dumbledore had told her a bit more about the wizzarding world as they were on their way to Flourish and Blotts just now. She learned that some of the wizards and witches came from pureblood families [which are ancient families which had a clear historical background, and whom bloodline can be traced back to pure magical folks], half-bloods [where only one of the parents is a magic folk] and Muggle-borns, just like herself. Certain pureblood families will look down at the others, Dumbledore had explained.

True enough, Hermione's words did the trick. Lucius Malfoy immediately stepped back with a disgusted look on his face.

"I see," he drawled and gave her a cold look. "A mudblood indeed."

He took one last look at her before turning away. "Pity," she heard him murmured under his breath before walking off, wiping his hands frantically on his robes. No doubt he was worried that touching her just now had contaminated him. Hermione smirked.

"Good day to you, Mr. Malfoy. Sorry that my blood status bother you. I hope I didn't ruin your pureblood superiority just now." Hermione added this as an afterthought, to irritate the wizard. Dumbledore had told her that most purebloods who looked down on the Muggle-borns and half-bloods will give them disgusted names, and mudblood was among them. It means "dirty blood", initiating that the Muggle-borns were unworthy living beings that were accepted into the wizzarding world. Hermione had felt angry at this form of prejudice. Why must that be such a standard in the wizzarding world, she wondered. Couldn't everyone just live together happily?

Hermione sighed, and turned around. After skimming isle after isle, she was finally satisfied with herself. At least she got to read through all the books in the store, though not thoroughly. She would buy these books some day, all of them, she promised herself when she could afford it.

She made for the front of the store, looking for Dumbledore. She was just approaching the counter, where Dumbledore was chatting happily with the short and plump wizard who was packing her books into two big boxes, when she noticed a movement from the corners of her eyes.

She squinted closely, and saw that someone was up to something at the back of the shop, at the end of the Defence against the Dark Arts isle. Curiosity overtook her. She had a bad feeling about this, and her instincts told her that what was going to come next was not good at all.

Making up her mind quickly, she smiled at Dumbledore, who had just caught sight of her, and signaled to him that she needs to check out another book. Dumbledore nodded, and gave her a smile.

"I'll be back in five minutes, professor," Hermione mouthed silently and Dumbledore nodded.

Quietly, Hermione made her way along the isle. She stopped a few feet away where a figure was crouching. One glance was enough to tell her who it was. There was no mistaking about platinum blond hair on the figure's head. It was Mr. Malfoy again.

What was he up to, Hermione wondered. Quietly, she hid behind a tall bookshelf, and crouched down to have a better look. Mr. Malfoy was directly opposite her now.

She could see that he was nervous. For a moment, his gaze darted around every corner, as though making sure that no one was around. Then, she saw him removing something from his robe pocket quickly. He held the object in his hands, which were beginning to tremble. Hermione could tell that the wizard was scared of performing whatever task he had come to do. She wondered what was the object in his hands. It looked like a book, judging by its square shape and leather cover, but she will have to take a closer look to confirm this.

The wizard straightened up after a few more seconds of pondering, picked out a dusty book from one of the shelves, and crouched down again. He flipped through the dusty pages quickly, and stopped at a particular page, which seemed to be the middle part of the book. Hastily, he placed the object in his hands onto the open book, and snapped it shut. Then, he walked a few paces back, and slipped the book over the edges of the shelf where Hermione was hiding. The book fell with a loud on the floor, barely missing Hermione by a few inches. She let out a breath of relief.

The wizard then straightened up, and walked away quickly, without looking back.

Oh yes, he was definitely up to no good, Hermione decided. From where she was crouching, she concluded that no one would noticed the fallen book, as the gap between the shelves were too small, and just enough for her to squeeze in. So, the book will definitely gone unnoticed for quite some time, until the owner decided to clear the shelves.

Quickly, Hermione stretched out her hands, and pulled the book towards her. She carefully opened the book and found the page where the wizard Malfoy had hidden the particular object a few seconds in no time.

She was indeed correct. The object in question was a diary, which was just the right size for writing and easy to carry. She picked up the diary. The leather smelled quite new, but the diary looked old. However, Hermione was surprised to find that it was not tattered at all.

"This must be some sort of bad plans which Malfoy need to destroy before he got himself into trouble," Hermione thought. "Or else, why dispose a diary here?"

Excitedly, Hermione started to open the diary. If it was indeed something fishy, she will not hesitate to inform the shopkeeper and Dumbledore about it. She was keen to see Malfoy suffer some punishment when he was wrong. Hermione could tell that he was up to no good the first time he started to talk to her.

She flipped through the pages of the diary, and her eyebrows shot up in surprise. The pages were all blank. So, why would Malfoy bother to dispose an empty diary? She flipped to the front and glanced at the first page.

"Ah," she said, when she saw a line of neat writing on the front page of the diary.

T.M. Riddle

"Who is this T.M. Riddle?" Hermione wondered. It must be someone Malfoy had worked with, she concluded. She was determined to check it out.

"Was he a friend of Malfoy? Or some bad guy?" she continued to wonder aloud.

A sudden feeling of familiarity overcame her. Without knowing what she was doing, Hermione picked up the diary, and stuffed it into her dress pocket. She hoped that the top would not show, and pushed the book as deep as she could manage into her pocket.

Her pulse quickened. Why was she doing this, she wondered aloud? For an unknown reason, she felt comfortable holding the diary, and sudden warmness enveloped her. She just wanted to keep the book close to her.

"Was it jinxed?" she wondered aloud. If it was, then she was doomed. She had fallen into Malfoy's trap. He was probably luring some innocent and ignorant people to pick it up, and then put a jinx on them Hermione decided. This must be it, she gathered finally. Why else would someone with perfect sense and a certain degree of respect in the wizzarding society leave a blank diary in a bookshop just like that? She was not falling into that trap, thank you very much.

Hastily, she pulled the diary out of her pocket, and held it up to the light. She examined the book thoroughly. She had managed to read a whole chapter in a book entitled "The Signs and Side Effects One May Find on Curse Objects", and she tried to look more closely at the diary to see if she could see such signs on it. Thank God she was a fast learner, and had learned that chapter by heart.

She turned the diary over, and flipped through the pages again. Nothing happened. The blank pages stared back at her, as though daring her to challenge them. There was also no sign that the book had been cursed or jinxed.

"Perhaps I'm thinking too much," Hermione said. She held the diary close to her. However, the warmness she felt just now did not coursed through her body this time.

"It must be my own silly imaginations the first time," she said to herself. "I'm really thinking too much."

She started to ponder her options. She realised that she had not much time left. Dumbledore will be suspicious when she did not emerge from the isle, and will probably come looking for her. She should think fast.

Finally, Hermione arrived at a decision.

"I'll keep this diary for now," Hermione said, pocketing the diary quickly. "When I've gathered sufficient evidence, I'll inform Dumbledore about it, and have Malfoy suffer the consequences. Dumbledore will probably laugh at me if I told him that Malfoy was up to no good. After all, he seems to have a grand air about him. I have no doubts that he was among one of the most respectable wizards in th3e wizzarding world. Dumbledore will probably not believe me now. After all, who will believe a new Muggle girl, who was just starting to step into her own world?" Hermione mused silently. She decided that she will strike out when the time was right.

She straightened up, and walked out of the isle.

"Done," Hermione said cheerfully, skipping beside Dumbledore, who was now holding two large boxes in his hands.

"Well, off we go then," Dumbledore said. "Just pay Mr. Blotts here for your books first, dear child. Do you still have the pouch?"

Hermione smiled, and removed the leather pouch from her dress pocket, at the same time taking care that the diary was well hidden from Dumbledore and Mr. Blotts' views.

"That's five galleons and twelve sickles, miss," the shopkeeper said. Hermione reached into the leather pouch Dumbledore had given her, and quickly counted out the money. She placed it on the counter, and the shopkeeper took it with a smile.

"Enjoy your first year, Ms. Granger. Professor Dumbledore had told me that you are a fast learner. We expect great thing from you soon."

Hermione just smiled and nodded. Dumbledore conjured a small trolley by waving his wand, and placed the two boxes on it. They walked out of the shop.

"Now, let's get your uniform and other school supplies before heading for Olivanders, shall we?"

Hermione nodded. She tried to keep the excitement and anxiety in her speech and actions. She was actually feeling nervous now. She longed to find out more about the diary. Only then could she proceed to find out about Malfoy's plan.

"Hermione, are you alright?" Dumbledore asked, as Hermione had gone very quiet all of a sudden.

"Yes," Hermione said. "I was just thinking about something else."

Dumbledore gave her a quizzical look, and fearing that he will be able to read her mind, Hermione quickly turned away. They continued to walk in silence, and proceed with their shopping.

By mid afternoon, the small trolley was loaded with Hermione's supplies. Hermione felt very happy today. She now had a few pairs of robes, some working gloves, two cloaks and two jumpers. She also have a full box of quills, three large bottles of ink, a telescope, scales and chopping board and cauldron for potions and a pet owl, which Dumbledore had insisted to buy for her.

"Treat this as your birthday present from me, Hermione," he said, when she refused to take the cage which contained a beautiful white snowy owl.

"Professor, you don't have to…" she started, but Dumbledore cut her off.

"No worries, child. It's my pleasure. After all, it's not everyday in my life that I got to but a lovely young girl like you a present, eh?" His blue eyes twinkled warmly behind his half-moon spectacles.

"Thank you, professor. No one had given me presents before for my birthday," Hermione said, finally extending her hand, and taking the cage from Dumbledore. A soft hoot was heard from within. Hermione reached through the small bars of the cage, and gently stroked the soft and warm feathers of the owl. It gave her another hoot, before placing its head under its wings.

"It seems to like me," Hermione said, smiling at Dumbledore. She was touched by his kindness.

Dumbledore smiled, and they continued to walk along Diagon Alley. By now, the crowd had become smaller. There were fewer shoppers and less noise now. The street was half cleared now.

Hermione was glad about this. She was tired of bumping into somebody and apologizing to them. The problem is, whenever they noticed her scar as she pushed locks of her long black hair out of her eyes, they will gawked at her and stand rooted to their spots. Then, they will rush forward, and shook her hand, offering compliments and welcoming her into the wizzarding world.

"Doris Crockford, Ms. Granger, and I'm so happy to be able to meet you at last," an elderly woman with a pipe in her mouth had said, giving Hermione's little hand a shake which sent Hermione's knees buckling.

"Welcome back, Ms. Granger. I'm Dedalus Diggle," a man with a high and pointed wizzard's hat said, rushing forward to shake her hands. In his excitement, his hat fall off his head, and he had to bent down several times before he could retrieved it and made his way through the crowd to shake Hermione's hand again.

"I'm blessed, Ms. Granger. I though I will not be able to meet you," an elderly man was sandy hair said, holding up a large hand for Hermione to shake. "I'm Amos Diggary, by the way. M'boy's starting at Hogwarts this year as well. I'm sure he'll be delighted for making your acquaintance."

This went on as Hermione continued to shop for her supplies. Dumbledore merely greeted a few of the witches and wizards, and nodded to some of them. His smile broadened each time one of the wizards or witches who recognized Hermione rushed forward and shake her hand.

Hermione just smiled, and thanked those who complimented her. She really did not know what was said; she was rendered speechless.

"See for yourself, my child. You're famous!" Dumbledore chirped happily beside her, popping a lemon drop into his mouth.

"Oh, well…" Hermione trailed off. She was getting tired. She wished she could just return home now, even though this means that she will be going back to Wools Orphanage. She had had quite enough for one day.

As though reading her thoughts, Dumbledore finally cleared his throat, straightened up and said: "One final stop before we go for dinner, I think this is the moment that you're waiting for, Hermione. Let's get your wand."

Hermione's heart skipped a beat. A wand! She was going to have a wand! At last!

All tiredness drained out of her. Her body was bursting with energy again. Finally, she was going to hold a wand, a magic wand.

She smiled and followed Dumbledore along the street. They reached a small and dusty-looking shop at the far end of the street.

"Olivander – Wand Maker since the 16th century"; a dusty sign which was hung above the shop read.

"Ready?" Dumbledore said, pushing open the door to the tiny shop. Hermione nodded, and stepped into the show. A bell tinkled lightly as the door closed behind them.

Dumbledore walked towards a bench at the far end of the shop, and sank down on it. Hermione on the other hand, did not think that she will be able to sit down just yet. This shop was just extraordinary. Unlike other shops, it was small, dusty, and boxes were piled high onto benches and shelves. She wondered whether those boxes held wands, judging by their oblong shape, which was just the perfect size to fit a wand.

However, there seems to be no one in the shop at that moment. Hermione's spirits fell. She was quite disappointed. Perhaps Mr. Olivander, or whoever it was, did not have the time for her today. Does that mean that she has to come back some time later?

"Hello?" she called out, hoping that someone will emerge from the back of the shop.

There was no answer.

"Hello?" she tried again, raising the volume of her voice to an octave higher than before.

There was still no answer. Sighing, Hermione glanced around the shop. The sun outside was just setting; its crimson rays reflecting on the dusty boxes piled high from floor to ceiling. Dusty chandeliers hung above the ceiling, glittering with a dim glow which made the shop look shabby and slightly eerie.

"Good evening."

A soft voice from behind her made Hermione jumped. Hastily, she turned around, and came face to face with an old man. The man had white hair, a wrinkled face and blue eyes which were just as piercing as Dumbledore's. His crooked nose almost touched Hermione's face as he bent down closer and observed her from behind a pair of ordinary spectacles with thin lenses.

"Ah, I should be expecting you sooner, Ms. Granger," he said in his soft voice again.

"Olivander," Hermione sighed with relief when he heard Dumbledore's voice from the far end of the shop.

"Ah, Albus. Twelve and a half inches, Holy. Dragon heartstrings. Swift and flexible," Mr. Olivander said, beaming at Dumbledore. "Oh yes, I still remembered."

"I'm bringing Ms. Granger to buy her supplies, Olivander," Dumbledore said, smiling at the old man.

"Indeed," Mr. Olivander said, still not taking his eyes off Hermione.

There was an awkward moment of silence.

"Hello, Mr. Olivander," Hermione finally said, and held out her hand. Mr. Olivander grasped it and shook it warmly.

"It was as though as it had since only yesterday that He was here, buying his first wand…" he trailed off. "I detected that same dark aura when He first stepped inside my shop. So there I was, busy daydreaming at the back of the shop today, and it happened again, just as before…"

What was he talking about, Hermione wondered. She figured that he will not ask Mr. Olivander about it, as it would seem rude.

"Oh yes, indeed. I can see the similarities…" the old man continued to mutter to himself, "and this is where all is explained…"

He reached out and touched Hermione's scar gently with his long fingers. Hermione flinched slightly at the icy cold touch.

"Ah, enough of that," Mr. Olivander suddenly straightened up. "Forgive me, Ms. Granger. Now, let's get down to business."

Hermione managed to give him a half smile. Mr. Olivander reached into his pockets and produced a measuring tape.

"Which hand do you prefer, Ms. Granger?" he asked.

"The right hand," Hermione said, guessing that he was asking her which hand she will prefer to use when holding the wand. She hoped that she was correct on this assumption.

"Very well. Hold out your right hand, Ms. Granger," Mr. Olivander said.

Hermione did as she was told, and the measuring tape uncoiled itself and started to measure her arm on its own accord.

"Stop!" Mr. Olivander cried at one point, and the measuring tape fall onto the floor with a loud clatter. Mr. Olivander bent down, picked it up and placed it back into his pocket.

"Now, let's see," he said, walking around his shops, and taking down various boxes from their respective piles.

"Try this," Mr. Olivander said finally, opening a box and pulled out a wand. Hermione took the wand in her hands, and stood still. She was not sure of what to do next. Did Mr. Olivander expect her to perform some spells?

"Ten and a quarter inches, mahogany, dragon heartstrings and unicorn hair, flexible and swishy," Mr. Olivander said. "Go on, try it out. Just give it a wave."

Holding the wand in her right hand, Hermione waved it slowly. There was a loud bang, and the chandelier above the ceiling exploded into pieces.

"Not to worry, not to worry," Mr. Olivander said, repairing the damage with a swift flick of his wand.

"Try this: Phoenix feather and unicorn hair, twelve and a half inches. Easily bent and strong when performing Transfiguration."

Hermione took the wand and was about to wave it when Mr. Olivander quickly snatched it back from her.

"No!" he said. "Let's try another one, shall we?"

They continued in this manner for quite some time. Each time Mr. Olivander gave Hermione a particular wand, he will quickly snatched it back before Hermione was able to wave it. On other times, Hermione will be free to wave the wand, and another terrible explosion will occur, which was repaired by Mr. Olivander. Dumbledore just sat quietly on the bench at the far end of the shop, observing the situation.

"Difficult customer, eh?" Mr. Olivander said, taking down more boxes from the shelves. By now, the floor was piled up high and littered with boxes. The more boxes he opened, the more excited Mr. Olivander become, Hermione noticed.

An hour later, they had still not managed to find the right wand for Hermione. She was beginning to get worried. Maybe all the wands decided that she was not their rightful owner after all. Maybe Dumbledore had really made a mistake after all, and she was not a witch at all.

"Don't worry," Mr. Olivander said, taking down more boxes from the shelves. "I'm sure the right wand will come soon. The wand chooses its master, you know?"

Hermione took comfort in those words. She hoped that Mr. Olivander was right.

"Ah, I wonder…" Mr. Olivander said suddenly, and a thoughtful expression crossed his features.

With a flick of his wand, all the littered boxes on the floor began to arrange themselves neatly on their respective shelves.

"Just give me a moment, Ms. Granger. I'll be right back," he said, and disappeared to the back of the shop.

Hermione let out a deep sigh, and shifted her weight from one foot to the other agitatedly. She was getting nervous and worried. She hoped that all would be well.

Five minutes later, Mr. Olivander emerged from the back of the shop, holding another box in his hands. The box was very tattered and dusty. It seems that it had been kept at the back of the shop for quite a number of years.

Mr. Olivander brushed off the thick layers of dust from the box with his hands, and opened it.

"Try this," he said in a small voice. Hermione could detect a sense of excitement and anticipation in the old man's voice.

She took the wand from Mr. Olivander's hands. A sudden warmness touched her fingers as they closed around the slender piece of wood. The warmness coursed through her arm and traveled up her shoulders. This had never happened before, Hermione observed. Maybe this was indeed her wand!

"I wonder…" Mr. Olivander trailed off again. Another thoughtful expression crossed her face. "Thirteen and a half inches, yew, phoenix feathers, powerful wand indeed."

From the opposite side of the room, Hermione heard Dumbledore shifting in his seat. Hermione looked at Dumbledore, but the old man just smiled at her before exchanging a knowing look with Mr. Olivander.

"Ah," Dumbledore said softly. "Do you think so, Olivander?"

Mr. Olivander just gave Dumbledore another wink, before turning back to Hermione.

"Go on, give it a wave," Mr. Olivander said, his blue eyes twinkling.

Slowly, Hermione raised the smooth and slender piece of wood, and brought it down swiftly. Immediately, red sparks shot out from the tip of a wand, followed by a string of silvery mist.

"Ah!" Mr. Olivander clapped his hands together. "At last! The wand chooses the wizard! This wand had chosen you, Ms. Granger!"

Hermione was bursting with excitement. At last, she had found her wand. It had chosen her!

"Curious…very curious indeed…" Mr. Olivander was muttering to himself again, as he took the wand from Hermione and put it back into its box. "I should have guessed…"

Hermione was finding it hard to contain her curiosity. She wanted so badly to find out what was Mr. Olivander talking about. For the last two hours, the old man had been acting strangely; muttering to himself and smiling to himself all the while.

"Excuse me, sir?" Hermione asked after clearing her throat. "May I know what is so curious?"

"Ah, my dear child," Mr. Olivander said, giving Hermione a sympathetic look. He was quiet for quite some time afterwards. Hermione assumed that he was not going to answer her, but was surprised when the old man leaned in closer to her and started to speak again after another long pause.

"I remembered every single wand that I've made, Ms. Granger; every single wand," he started to said. "You must know that no two wands are ever alike. Every wand has their special characteristics, strengths and weaknesses.

However, during the last century, when I was making wands, an unusual thing happened. It turned out that the phoenix, which tail was used to make the core of your wand, decided to give another feather. Just one more so that a twin core wand can be created.

I thought that this was amazing and particular, but the next happening surprised me even more. It turned up that the particular yew tree, which bark is used to make your wand, just decided to give another bark as well! It was totally unexpected! The bark was so thick and I thought it was unusual when I collected it. Then, during the wand making process, it simply splits into halves of the same length.

Thus, it seemed to be possible to create two similar wands, with same tree barks and twin cores. How amazing!"

"Is it unusual?" Hermione asked. She still could not get it. She could not understand what is the big deal of her and another person getting the same wand. It will be as though both persons obtained a same textbook, wouldn't it? Why was Mr. Olivander thought that it was curious?

"Ah, indeed it is," Mr. Olivander said. "It is unusual that this particular wand decided to choose you, when his brother gave you this." Here, Mr. Olivander straightened up, and pointed at Hermione's scar with his index finger.

"What…" Hermione started to say, but the pieces finally clicked together in her head. A chill ran down her spine, and her knees buckled slightly.

"You mean that…" she trailed off.

Mr. Olivander gave her a questioning look. Swallowing hard, Hermione tried again.

"Are you telling me that I have the same wand as Lord Voldemort?"

"Ah," Mr. Olivander said, nodding slowly. "You really are the brightest witch for your age, Ms. Granger. Yes, indeed. Both of you shared the same wand. I should be blaming myself for this; for I've made the wand which will destroy the whole world…"

A sad look crossed the old man's face. "It's too late now…It had fallen into the wrong hands…"

"Mr. Olivander," Hermione said, reaching out and patting the old man's wrinkled hands gently. A tinge of sympathy for the old man grew in Hermione's chest. That poor man was probably blaming himself for the terrible disaster in the wizzarding world.

"It was my fault too that you lost your parents," Mr. Olivander said, straightening up again and wrapping up the box containing Hermione's wand with brown paper.

"And you made me famous too," Hermione said, trying to sound cheerful. "I've yet to thank you for that, Mr. Olivander. Without the creation of that wand, I'll not be known as the girl-who-lived and became famous! Don't blame yourself for this; it was not your fault, sir."

Mr. Olivander gazed at her, and then he smiled slowly. "You're amazing, child," he said, smiling at her fondly again.

They continued to chat for a while, before Dumbledore announced that it was time to go. Hermione bid Mr. Olivander goodbye and the old man wished her best of luck in her future.

"Use it well," Mr. Olivander said, pointing to the long, thin package at the top of the pile on the trolley. "We expect great things from you soon, my dear."

"Don't worry, I will be sure of it," Hermione said, giving Mr. Olivander another warm smile. "Good evening, Mr. Olivander."

Dumbledore walked out of the shop, and Hermione followed behind him. They headed down the street, which was now totally deserted. They passed through all the shops, and stepped out of the hole onto the other side of the sidewalk once more.

"Now, dinner at the Leaky Cauldron, and then you shall be getting back to Wools Orphanage," Dumbledore said, leading Hermione into a small and shabby-looking pub.

"Another magical place?" Hermione enquired. She observed that the shop was well hidden from view. Passer-bys tend to overlook it, judging by its shabby appearance. Their gaze would mainly fall on the large bookshop and the video shop, where the shabby pub was sandwiched in between.

"Yes, indeed. I daresay that you'll be meeting a lot more of people here. Are you prepared for another round, Hermione?" Dumbledore asked, grinning.

Hermione sighed, and gave Dumbledore a tired smile.

"Fine then. I'll ask Tom to arrange a private room for us upstairs. I personally think that you had had enough for one day."

"Thanks, professor," Hermione said, giving Dumbledore an appreciative smile.

They stepped into the pub, and Dumbledore hastily signaled for a balding barman forward. The pub was very noisy. Hermione could hear the clinking of wineglasses and the sound of cutlery, as the customers drank from their wineglasses and cut up their food.

Dumbledore had a quick and quiet exchange with the barman, who nodded and signaled for the both of them to follow him. They walked up several flights of stairs after passing through the occupied tables. Hermione took care in bending as low as possible, so that her face and scar will not be visible. She had no desire to be ambushed by a crowd who will start to compliment and congratulate her a moment later.

They reached a wide landing, and headed down a quiet corridor. The barman produced a rusty little key from his pocket, and unlocked a door at the end of the corridor.

"Dinner will be here in ten minutes," he said, before hurrying off downstairs. As he passed, a look of respect crossed his face when his gaze fell on Hermione.

While waiting for their food, Hermione and Dumbledore chatted for a while. Hermione found out more about the magical world. She now gets to know what Quidditch was all about. It was some kind of wizzarding sport, by the way Dumbledore described it. However, Hermione found that for some reason, she was not quite interested about Quidditch, as it seemed boring, as the description was akin to soccer played in the air.

Dinner was wonderful. Hermione had not eaten anything so nice and tasty before in her entire life. The chicken stew and meat pie was simply tempting. She almost finished half of the food Dumbledore ordered. Dumbledore just smiled at her, and waved off her rudeness and apologies simply when Hermione mentioned it.

"Oh, it's not like you've a nice meal before, eh?" Dumbledore said, patting her gently on the shoulder.

After desert [lemon tarts and strawberry ice-cream], which was also delicious, Hermione and Dumbledore apparated back to Wools Orphanage.

Hermione felt sad all of a sudden. Dumbledore would leave her now, and she will have to endure this miserable life for at least another two months before she was free to go again. Nevertheless, the thought of her new school books, her supplies, her wand and her pet owl made her cheered up a little. At least these will occupied her time, she decided.

"Now, I will leave you here, Hermione," Dumbledore said. With a wave of his wand, the small trolley which held all her supplies disappeared, along with her supplies.

"Your supplies are now safely in your room," Dumbledore said. "You wouldn't like the other children gawking at you as you went up to your room holding weird packages, eh?"

Hermione smiled at the light joke, and shook Dumbledore's hand warmly. The old wizard gave her another warm smile, and gave her small hand a squeeze.

Then, Dumbledore reached into his pocket, and produced a small brown envelope, which he handed to Hermione.

"Here's your ticket," he said, grinning. "Just be at platform nine-and-three-quarters before 11 a.m. on 1st September. Just ask around if you're unable to find the platform."

"Okay," Hermione said, taking the envelope from Dumbledore's hands, and pocketed it.

"I must be off then. I've some other business to attend to," Dumbledore said, smoothing out the creases on his long cloak. "See you around, Hermione. Enjoy your holiday!"

And without another word and before Hermione could open her mouth to thank him once more, Dumbledore turned on the spot, and disappeared.

Hermione blinked, and turned away. Slowly, she made her way towards the grill gates of the orphanage. Into the garden, passed the front door, passed the dining room, up onto the first floor, and finally, she turned the corner which lead to her room.

She bolted the door, and sat on the bed excitedly. Two big bags were placed at the foot of her bed. She gathered that all of her supplies were inside them.

Taking off her dress, Hermione went into the bathroom, and had a quick shower. Then, she dressed quickly and sat down on her bed.

She removed the diary from the pockets of her dress, and started to trace its cover thoughtfully.

Where should she begin?

Tiredness overtook her, and her mind refused to turn the necessary gears for now. Sighing, Hermione placed the diary beside her, lie down on her bed and fall asleep instantly. The events of the day had tired her out. She will figure out the diary on tomorrow, she decided.

Managing a small yawn before her eyelids drooped completely, Hermione rolled onto her side, clutched the diary tightly against her chest, and drifted off to dreamland.

HG/LV/HG/LV/HG/LV/HG/LV

^^ Yay! Finally it's done!

^^ Sorry for the long wait. My degree had started, and I'm very busy now. So, do not expect anything more until early November, when my term break starts! Hope all of you will be patient! Pursuing a law degree is not something easy, and I wanted to concentrate hard in my studies without letting anything affect my grades! However, I used to write when I'm too stress or feeling up to it sometimes, :D. So, do stay on!

^^ The plot of the next chapter is already in my head! It just needs to be typed out in words that are all!

^^ Enough of this for now. Hope all of you enjoyed this chapter. Do review!

~~Hermione Hean Fui~~


	8. Chapter 8 PLAN B

Author's Note:

Too stress! Can't resist writing this chapter! Sorry it's a bit short. I'm still busy with my coursework, but stress won me over, and so, thereby, here's a new chapter!

Hope all of you enjoyed it.

Hermione – The Dark Lady: Haha. I guess Tom won't be saying that for a while until he finds out about Hermione having the same wand as him. Anyway, good lines, lol. Do continue to review.

HG/LV/HG/LV/HG/LV/HG/LV

Chapter 8: Plan B

Lord Voldemort emerged from his bedroom, feeling fresh and warm after a hot bath. He had managed to catch a few hours of sleep upon his return from Wools Orphanage. Now, it was time to get back to business.

He took a deep breath and exhaled. The alcohol had ceased to affect him, it seemed, and his headache was getting back to him again. However, he was still glad that he had completely let the matter a few hours back slipped from his thoughts. There was no way that he will do such a disgusting thing again; to think that he just gawked at an ordinary Muggle, when he will soon be the great Lord Voldemort was a total disgrace upon his name and reputation. He was certain that this was the after effects of consuming too much strong liquor. He had become quite vulnerable back then, he gathered. He had let his guard down, just because the Muggle girl was using his room. He had pity a Muggle who spent her time at the orphanage in isolation, and what a disgusting thing this was. Never would he favoured Muggles, for they were not worth his time and should be wiped off from the wizzarding world with a simple "avada kedavra"; it was as simple as that. Once the blinding flash of green touched them, they will be blasted into oblivion. The wizzarding world will get to hear no more about these crazy fools and their good-for-nothing ideas. He will make sure that the waters and land of the wizzarding world will never be trudged or stepped upon by any filthy foot of a good-for-nothing filthy Muggle when he dominated the whole world. It would be a society with pureblood supremacy being the primary concern, and the rule of Lord Voldemort, the greatest and darkest wizard of all time, Lord Voldemort.

At the thought of this, Lord Voldemort smirked. He retreated into his room, took another small bottle of wine from his collection, and took a few swigs. He had no desire to let the alcohol affect him again when he was on business. He took one last longing look at the bottle, before grunting and put it back into its place. He will have more wine later, when he had finished his business.

His headache subsided a few minutes later, and he was ready to get started. The mid afternoon sun streamed through the high and elegant French windows of Malfoy Manor. Voldemort gazed out into the distance, his eyes taking the scenery that stretched far beyond him. It was all the same; grand decorations, beautiful flowers in the gardens, marvelous fountains that will make one who had not entered the manor before stood there, as though transfixed by its beauty. To the Dark Lord, this was nothing new, and was beginning to show the slightest sign of disinterest to him as the days passed.

Lord Voldemort pulled his black cloak tightly around him, and descended the elegant spiraling marble staircase. He ignored the portraits hung on the walls along the stairway, who were all the Malfoy ancestors. They merely nodded at him and gave him a few winks as he passed.

Lord Voldemort paced briskly across the corridors, and headed towards the drawing room.

As he pushed open the door, he found the room deserted. It seemed that none of his followers had returned from their assignments yet. Good, he thought. He could use this moment to think over his plans and arrange his strategies. He will seek the opinion of his most loyal and trustworthy followers later.

Pulling up a comfortable leather chair close against a large bay window, the Dark Lord sighed. He sat down, and skimmed through several thick folders which he had summoned from the one shelf in the drawing room. The mid afternoon sun streamed through the windows, illuminating his pale skin and handsome features. However, the dark lord was too busy to notice this. The sunlight reflected upon the smooth face, the high cheekbones and the perfectly shaped nose. His pale fingers held the folder in its place, with the other hand turning the pages absent-mindedly as he shuffled his foot about, the dark lord looked quite vulnerable at this very moment. He was not the cruel Lord Voldemort for now, if one is to discover him in this position. The red glint in his eyes was amiss, replaced instead by a slight twinkle which made him look more angelic than ever.

He was just flipping another folder open, when the drawing room door burst open, and three people entered. The door shut behind them with a loud bang. The three hooded figures looked haggard, sweat trickling down their faces as they hastily threw off their hoods. Their cloak was drenched with sweat too. One of the Death Eaters took out a filthy handkerchief and dabbed at the perspiration on his forehead quickly before pocketing the handkerchief again.

The three hooded figures, who had now removed their hoods, knelt before Lord Voldemort. The dark lord could tell that there was something urgent, as the three of them looked agitated and nervous. Their lips quivered slightly as they bowed for another time before the dark lord.

Lord Voldemort's mood darkened. He was not prepared for any other problems for now. He had just got rid of his headache, and here were his followers again, bringing another piece of bad news? Oh no, he was definitely not prepared for this.

With a snarl, the dark lord snapped the folder shut, placed them down in the chair beside him and focused his attention to the three figures in front of him.

"My Lord," Lestrange started in an urgent voice. "It seemed that Blais Zabini had indeed told on us. The old codger is coming here tonight. He had a warrant from old Fudge that will permit him to search Lucius's property. I think we should clear up fast before they arrived…"

The dark lord's face was unreadable. If one was to look more closely, they would not miss the flash of red glint in his eyes. He was very angry. The nerve of that insufferable part of a Head Boy! How dare he turn against him? And how dare he have acted so soon after sending the letter? The boy will be dealt with later, the dark lord affirmed and he would not let this matter slip out of his control lightly.

"My lord," another follower, Avery started. "I've more bad news. Fudge had suspected that his secretary, Deloros Umbridge had been put under the Imperius curse. He is tightening security at the Ministry yet again, from what I've heard…"

"Another flaw!" the dark lord snarl, stomping his foot on the polished wooden floor.

"We're so sorry, my lord…" Avery started, but the third Death Eater cut him off.

"I'm afraid that I've another bad news for you, my lord," he said.

"Get out with it then, Mulcibur. Or do you need me to hex it out of you?" the dark lord was merciless and fierce. Three pairs of eyes darted around the room, fear clearly detected behind them.

"It seems that Riddle Mansion had been restored by some Muggles, my lord," Mulcibur said. "They were going to rebuild the whole place. I think that we better get our hidden things out of there fast before it's too late. Construction work is due to take place three days from now."

"Crucio!"

The spell burst out of the thirteen-and-a-half inches yew wand before anyone in the room knew it. At once, three terrifying screams can be heard, as all the Death Eaters sank onto their knees, screaming in pain. The dark lord let his magic lashed out at his followers, making no attempt to control it.

How could all his plans suddenly backfire like this? How could the world be so unfair to him, the great Lord Voldemort? Why was gaining what he wanted so difficult?

Lord Voldemort held the curse for a few more minutes, before casually flicking his wand, and lifted the curse. Lestrange, Avery and Mulcibur immediately stood up, gasping for breath and leaning on each other for support. Their muscles twitched, and cold sweat was trickling down their forehead.

Lord Voldemort dismissed them before they could say another word. He was not in a mood to speak now. With low bows, the three men quickly backed out of the room, closing the door not too gently behind them in their haste to flee from him.

Lord Voldemort sank down deeper into his chair. He puts his head in his hands. How could he fail now, after all that he had struggled for the last three years? How can he give up anything now? How can he, the future Dark Lord, be found in this delicate position by none other than his most hated adversary, Albus Dumbledore?

He took a few breaths to calm himself. Perhaps a large brandy will help to calm him, he decided. Rising from his seat, he made for his bedroom, where his collection of wine was stashed.

Ten minutes later, with a bottle of large brandy and a silver wineglass in his hands, Lord Voldemort reentered the drawing room, and sat on his chair again. He uncorked the bottle, and tipped a generous amount of the brandy into the goblet. He drained the glass with a few quick gulps, and poured himself another generous helping. The wine coursed down his throat, warmness spreading over his body. He felt relaxed and his nerves started to calm down.

He would have to act fast. Before tonight, he would have to carry out one of his strategies. It was no use holding back now. His fate will be doomed. He would have to use plan B.

Just when he thought he was calm enough to arrange the perfect strategy to be carried out tonight, the drawing room door opened, and Lucius Malfoy stepped in.

At first glance, the dark lord could see that Malfoy was frightened. His skin had turned a few shades paler, his eyes darting nervously around the room, his nose and mouth twitching uncontrollably, and his voice even had the slightest hint of a quiver when he addressed his master.

"My…lord…" he seemed to be picking his words carefully, Voldemort notice.

"Lucius," he began, greeting the older Malfoy. "Have you completed your assignment?"

HG/LV/HG/LV/HG/LV/HG/LV

Lucius Malfoy removed his hands from his pockets, and heaved a deep sigh. He paced his bedroom nervously, his whole body trembling with fear. He was doomed. His master would sure hex the shit out of him if he knew what had happened.

Not an hour ago, he had received a warning letter from that good-for-nothing minister of magic, Fudge, informing him that a through search would be carried out at his home tonight. Albus Dumbledore had raised a few points of suspicion and the minister himself would like to clarify whether those suspicions were true or not. Lucius Malfoy had run out of his study and went straight to his room after that.

He could not let this happen. He will be sent to Azkaban before he was able to say "Slytherin" if the ministry officials searched his property. There were things that were best to be kept in the dark rather than in the light. He had certain things which will undoubtfully land him into hot soup.

His whole body was shaking as he entered his bedroom a few hours ago. Narcisa Malfoy was just putting the finishing touches to her make up when her husband walked in. It only took Lady Malfoy one glance to figure out that her husband was troubled. She had coaxed him into telling her what had happened after a few minutes of silence, where Lucius continued to pace the room in an agitated manner.

Finally, they had formulated a plan together; a plan that will perhaps endangered their lives if Lord Voldemort had known about it. Nevertheless, the both of them had decided to carry out that plan, as it will benefit them greatly if it succeeded. Draco will have an enjoyable school year, Narcisa will continue to be the most respectable woman in the society and Lucius's position at the Ministry and his post as Governor of Hogwarts will be guaranteed to last for at least a few more years.

"Fingers crossed," Narcisa Malfoy whispered, giving her husband a worried look. Lucius just nodded, and the both of them started to leave the manor.

Narcisa proceeded to bring a protesting Draco to purchase his school supplies while Lucius carried out the plan. It was done in a couple of seconds, and Lucius emerged from Flourish and Blotts, with a smile plastered on his face. Finally, after all these years, he had got rid of that damned object. He would have completed his plan earlier if not for that interfering little mudblood. Lucius was sure to keep a close watch on her. How dare that filthy little prat speak like that to him, Lucius Malfoy? After all, he was a highly respectable figure in the wizzarding community.

Now, Lucius was beginning to panic. He had heard the screams from downstairs, as his room was directly above the drawing room. He could tell that part of their plan had backfired, as he heard the most dreaded word escaped Lord Voldemort's mouth before a series of screams followed.

"Crucio!"

Lucius shuddered and hugged himself tightly. The screaming continued, and only ceased after quite some time. And then, the worse had come at last. Lucius felt a burning pain on his forearm and his dark mark started to grow warm. Hastily, he straightened up, and left the bedroom. He quickly emptied his mind of the incident today, for he hoped that the dark lord would not bring this subject up.

However, Lucius Malfoy was soon to find out that he was wrong, and his action had brought about consequences which he could never have imagined.

Gathering all the courage that was left in him, the older Malfoy reached out and turned the doorknob. He pushed open the door to the drawing room and stepped inside.

HG/LV/HG/LV/HG/LV/HG/LV

"Yes, my lord," Lucius Malfoy was agitated, the dark lord could tell. Every now and then, his eyes were cast downwards. He dare not look the dark lord in the eye.

"Good. Continue to follow up on the list of activities of the Order of the Phoenix. Continue to get in touch with Severus."

"Yes, my lord," Lucius answered. He still looked nervous, Lord Voldemort noted.

"My lord, have you heard from the Ministry?" Lucius asked after a few more minutes of silence.

"Yes, indeed I have," Lord Voldemort said. "It's time to clear up a bit, Lucius. We must move tonight."

"I understand," Lucius said, getting to his feet. For some reason, Lord Voldemort could feel that Lucius was trying to get out of the room as fast as possible. He knew immediately that the man was hiding something. He would find out about it later, he gathered. He needs to work fast now. In a few hours time, the place will be searched, and he would have to leave as fast as possible.

"Very well, Lucius," Lord Voldemort said, rising from his chair. With a flick of his wand, the folders burst into flames and all that remained were a pile of ashes. With another flick of his wand, the ashes disappeared.

"You may leave to pack up," the dark lord finally said, after looking at Lucius for quite a long time. "And before you pack, I would like you to return the object that I've left in your possession before I was destroyed, if you please."

Lucius Malfoy trembled slightly at the mention of this. The dark lord stepped closer, forcing Lucius's chin upwards with a not too gentle gesture. Fearfully, Lucius started to shake uncontrollably as the dark lord's eyes bored into his.

And in a matter of minutes, Lucius was on the floor, screaming his lungs out at the top of his voice. Lord Voldemort was fuming with anger. How could this fool do such a thing?

"You fool! You've no idea how important that diary was to me! Who give you the specific permission to discard it? And for crying out loud, of all places, you have to choose a bookshop? Have your brains gone mushy, Lucius?"

The dark lord waved his wand, and Lucius's robes burst into flames. The flames licked his skin, and Lucius Malfoy continued to thrash about on the ground.

"Crucio!"

The dark lord was merciless. How dare Malfoy move his things?

"I only asked you to keep it, you fool! We've enough problems to deal with; Lucius, and now you present me with this shit!"

"For…for…give…me…" Lucius tried to choke out in between his screams. He was clutching his chest now, and gasped for air.

"You should pay for what you did, Lucius. I would now ask you to apparatus back to Flourish and Blotts and retrieve the book. If you cannot find it, I'll make sure that you'll not be able to see the sunrise on tomorrow. Am I clear?"

Fearfully, Lucius nodded, and with a lazy flick of his wand, Lord Voldemort lifted the curse and kicked out at Malfoy roughly before storming out of the room.

HG/LV/HG/LV/HG/LV/HG/LV

Lord Voldemort was fuming. All his plans had not worked out after all. The Malfoy Manor had been searched, and that old fool Lucius had forgotten to keep away a few dark objects before leaving to search for his precious diary. This has resulted in his arrest. Narcisa and Draco had fled, from what he had heard. Lestrange and all the other Death Eaters were all brought to the ministry for questioning. He was really doomed this time.

He hoped that his followers will be released soon. Now, he was left on his own. He was back to square one. He would have to work his way to the top of the ladder again. He was already almost there, why wouldn't he succeed this time? This was unfair. How could this happen to him? He would have to be more careful from now onwards. He should maintain a low profile and go into hiding again. The ministry will probably be on the outlook for him from now onwards, and security will be tightened. His followers will bound to betray him one way or the other. He still could not trust every single one of them.

Nevertheless, he comforted himself that there was still some hope, as his most loyal follower, Severus Snape's position as spy for the dark side had not been discovered. He trusted Severus quite well; Snape would never betray him. He had proven his loyalty to the dark lord when he had killed his own father in front of the dark lord himself. He hoped that Severus will keep in touch with him soon, before he went into hiding. He would need to gather information from time to time to find out when will it be safe to strike. He was confident that he will manage this quite well on his own, if he had gathered all the necessary information and carry out his plan B accordingly.

With another furious snarl, the dark lord turned on the spot, and headed for his sanctuary: the seaside near Wools Orphanage. That was the only place that he could think off now.

Lord Voldemort sank down on a large boulder, letting the cold water lapped against his feet. He uncorked a large bottle of wine, and downed it all in a gulp. He reached for another bottle from the basket beside him, which he had brought along. All his belongings, including the whole collection of the Malfoy library were in this basket. He had charmed it to be a bottomless pit basket, which he could use to store anything he needed. He had also charmed it to be light and easy to carry.

Lord Voldemort could feel the burning sensation in his throat, as he gulped down another bottle of fire whiskey. He would drink away all his failures and sorrows tonight, he decided. He could not take it any longer. How could he have lost out so easily? Why must the world deceive him like this? He had gone through a terrible childhood after all, wasn't that enough? He wondered what he or his ancestors had done in the past that had let him to suffer through his life.

The cold sea breeze soothed him and the cold water continued to lap against his feet. The dark lord was beginning to get tipsy after the fifth bottle of fire whiskey. Nevertheless, he continued to reach for another bottle and uncorked it.

Half an hour later, a drunken dark lord got to his feet, swaggering slightly. Clumsily, he banished all the empty wine bottles with a flick of his wand. His hands trembled slightly as he pocketed his wand. He staggered along the shore and headed towards a hidden spot behind a large boulder. His mind was becoming foggy, and his vision was swimming in front of him. He leaned against the wall near the boulder for support for a minute before pushing himself upright.

The alcohol was beginning to make him dizzy now. With no particular location in mind, the drunken dark lord turned on the spot.

A few seconds later, his feet touched soft ground... He staggered to maintain his balance. He does not think that he could stand it any longer. He felt nauseous and dizzy.

He stumbled backwards, and collapsed on the ground. He was out before he even knew it. He grunted painfully and rolled over onto his sides. He closed his eyes, and was knocked out straightaway.

Moonlight illuminated his features. He looked so peaceful and innocent when he was unconscious. A light breeze blew across the lawn, touching the drunken dark lord slightly but he did not shiver nor did he stir. The alcohol had knocked him off completely.

HG/LV/HG/LV/HG/LV/HG/LV

Hermione woke with a start. She reached up and clutched her head. Her scar was burning again. Her head was pounding painfully. She gasped for air. Cold sweat was trickling down her forehead. She kicked off her blankets, and rolled over onto her sides.

She closed her eyes, and breathed in quickly. She tried to relax. She hoped that the pain will go away as soon as possible. Why was she experiencing it again? It was only yesterday that it had happened, but the pain had ceased abruptly.

She clutched her scars, pursing her lips tightly to avoid any screams from coming out of her mouth. If she woke the whole orphanage up, Mrs. Cole will not be happy, and she knew quite well the consequences of doing this. She will be in trouble herself.

The pain continued. Hermione grabbed her pillow and buried her face into it. Finally, she could not stand it any longer. She let out a muffled scream. Her scar continued to burn. Her head felt as though it was on fire. Her skull was going to burst open any moment now, as the pain was unbearable.

Sweat was trickling down her forehead, and she wiped it on the sleeves of her nightgown. Staggering slightly, she reached out blindly and feels about for the switch of her table lamp. After a few attempts, she managed to switch on the lamp. Her room was illuminated with a dull yellow glow which flickered feebly. She swung her legs over the edge of the bed, and staggered towards the bathroom. She bolted the door behind her, and sank down into the tub, turning the tap open at the same time.

She screamed into the water and dipped her head downwards at intervals. The cold water was soothing, and he managed to calm herself slightly. However, the pain still did not cease. In fact, it was getting worse.

Hermione was starting to drift in and out of consciousness. She figured that she was going to faint sooner or later if the pain did not go away.

All of a sudden, the pain increased. Hermione doubled over, clutching her forehead and sank down into the tub. Half her body was wet now. Her vision was starting to blur.

And then, something happened.

There was a sudden buzzing in her ears. It grew louder and louder, and then she could hear something; a whisper. It grew louder and louder, and she was able to hear it clearly now. It was the sound of hissing, and it sounded angry. Was that her own imagination, Hermione wondered as her eyelids opened and closed on their own accord, as she drifted in and out of consciousness. Did she just hear a snake hissing?

Strangely enough, the hissing grew louder, and much to her surprise, Hermione found that she was able to make out what was the hissing voice saying.

"Nagini…come to me…come…don't leave me…I've lost a lot already…don't deceive me…"

What was that about? Hermione wondered. The hissing continued.

"How dare you deceive the heir of Slytherin? Come…Basilisk…come here and help me….I need help….i'm broken…"

The hissing stopped abruptly, and Hermione bolted out of the tub with a start. Her scar was still hurting badly, but in the midst of her excitement, she had forgotten about it for a while.

Was this the side effect of touching the diary, Hermione wondered. It couldn't be, she reasoned. She had not got the diary when the same thing happened yesterday and three years ago. However, this time she had heard a voice, and it was not a good sign.

She had remembered Dumbledore telling her that hearing voices was not a good sign for witches or wizards back at the Leaky Cauldron. Why was this happening to her?

Before she was able to ponder this any further, another sharp pain burst through her head, and she doubled over, this time collapsing onto the bathroom floor. She had still not stepped out of the bathroom yet just now in her excitement.

Her vision was beginning to swim in front of her, and then, another extraordinary thing happened. Before her eyes, pictures were beginning to form. Slowly, the blurry images became clear and Hermione squinted closely at the scene in front of her.

She saw the outline of a figure. It was tall, as far as she can tell. And before she knew it, Hermione suddenly felt very angry. Her body was getting hot. Her anger was uncontrollable. She lashed out at the tall figure, with a wand in her hands.

"Crucio!"

She screamed and fire spell after spell at the tall figure.

"Crucio!"

She screamed and screamed, firing curse after curse at the figure. Finally, with a final flick of her wand, she lifted the curse from the figure. The screams ceased, and Hermione found herself smirking in satisfaction.

"Stop! Stop!" she muttered. "This was not right at all. Stop!"

And it was at that precise moment that Hermione was jolted out of her seizure. The pain stopped, and she felt better. Sitting up and gasping for breath, Hermione got to her feet after a few minutes and walked out of the room. She slipped out of her wet nightgown, and put on a new pair of pajamas.

She wondered what had happened just now. Why was she seeing thing? And most importantly, why was she having the impression that it was she who had tortured the tall figure in front of her just now? "Crucio" was one of the three unforgivable curses, and it was a very dark spell indeed. How come she was able to use such dark spells? She had managed to read about this curse briefly in one of the books at the bookshop this afternoon. It was only used by evil witches and wizards if it was to inflict pain, wasn't it? How come she knew this spell? Why was she torturing someone?

She was sure that there has been a mistake somewhere. It could not be her. She had not learned these advanced spells yet. But yet…

Her thoughts were interrupted by a sharp wrap on her door. Oh dear, Mrs. Cole must have been roused by her screams, Hermione gathered.

True enough, she opened the door to find a furious looking matron standing before her door.

"Granger, what was that all about?" Mrs. Cole asked. "For God's sake, have mercy! It's three in the morning, and you're screaming your head off for the past hour! Don't you have some common sense?"

"Mrs. Cole, I…" Hermione tried to explain, but the matron just turned away and stomped down the corridor.

"You've already rouse the whole orphanage! Happy? No more nonsense, please! Punishment will be carried out tomorrow. Clear the lawn. And mow it."

"Fine," Hermione said. The little girl stomped her feet frustratedly. Why wouldn't Mrs. Cole listen to her?

She bolted her bedroom door and sat on her bed. She tried to figure out what had just happened. She should perhaps write to Dumbledore tomorrow. She should perhaps tell him her problems.

However, she quickly banished this thought away. If Dumbledore knew about this, would he decline to accept her at Hogwarts, seeing that she had so many weird problems? She had already planned to move on with her life, hadn't she? She had no desire to live in Wools Orphanage any longer. At least going away for a year before returning to this place was better. So, with her shoulders squared, Hermione decided that for just this once, she would not bother to tell Dumbledore about her problems. She would consider telling it to him later if it happened again in the future.

Having made up her mind, she shifted her attention towards the diary. She would have to work fast. She would have to find out anything she could from the magic folks about Lucius Malfoy, and more importantly, she should ask them about T.M. Riddle. Then, she would be able to pin the blame on that stupid, arrogant prig of a man, Lucius Malfoy. She was sure that he was up to no good.

Eventually, her thoughts drifted towards her problem. Why was her scar hurting again? What was the matter with her?

Tiredness overtook her, and before she knew it, Hermione collapsed onto her bed, and fall into a deep and dreamless sleep.

HG/LV/HG/LV/HG/LV/HG/LV

Hermione stepped out into the sunny lawn with a lawn mower in one hand, and a few garbage bags in another. She was asked to clean the entire lawn today, as punishment for what happened last night.

Setting down the lawn mower, Hermione set to work. Her scar was still burning, and she tried her best to ignore it. She crouched down, and started to pull out weeds from the first patch of grass. To tell the truth, there was not much to be done. The place was old and shabby, and the pavements had turned dull and gray. The tiles were old and not polished for a long time. Mrs. Cole said that they need to safe some funds for rainy days, but Hermione knew better what does that mean.

An hour later, Hermione had mowed the entire law and pulled out all the weeds. She bundled them into garbage bags and laid them in a heap near the grill gates. She just has one more area to cover before she was done.

The sun shone brightly, and sweat was beginning to trickle down her forehead. Hermione wiped it on the back of her hands, and continued to work. She continued to clear the garden.

Her scar was burning quite badly now. She hoped that she will be excused after this. She feared that the incident that occurred yesterday will occur again. She had no desire to let Mrs. Cole witness it happen. She knew that she was quite a sight to look at yesterday.

As she rounded the last corner, Hermione smile. After this, she will be done. The lawn was clear now. After clearing this patch of grass, she was able to retire to her room [or she hoped so]. Mrs. Cole had decided at the last minute that Hermione should clear away that patch of grass, as it was quite a horrible sight to the passing visitors. This area was near the grill gates, and if one was to peer in closely through the fence, they will not consider of setting foot in the orphanage. There were ugly weeds and overgrown hedges covering that tiny pavement. Hermione knelt down, put on her gloves and started to pull out weeds.

A sharp pain seared through her scar. Hermione tried to ignore it as best as possible.

"Almost done, almost do," she told herself, as her hands continued to pull out the weeds from the ground.

Suddenly, she heard rustling sounds a few feet away from where she was kneeling. It grew louder and louder. Was it a cat? Or a dog perhaps?

Then, she heard a soft grunt. It was the sound of another human being. She squinted closely and caught a glimpse of a figure. Perhaps someone was hurt, she reasoned. She should help that person.

Cautiously, she stepped into the tall hedges, and approached the form on the ground. From the distance, she could tell that it was a man.

Her scar was burning painfully, but she ignored it. She heard another soft moan and more rustling sounds. She tiptoed softly towards the spot where the form laid. Anxiously, she crouched down when she was a few paces away from the figure which was sprawled on the grass.

At first glance, she could tell that this man was not a member of the orphanage. It must be one of those drunkards who had climbed over the low walls of the garden, she reasoned. She could smell alcohol all over the man's body. This was not the first time it happened. However, unfortunately, it was Hermione's first time of encountering such situations.

She had learned that drunkards can be dangerous sometimes, when their mind was intoxicated. She had no desire to land herself into trouble.

She gazed down at the man again. He was lying on his stomach, breathing heavily. She only managed to catch a glimpse at his back. A basket laid a few feet away from him.

Hermione started to back away silently. She had no desire of getting herself into another mishap, thank you very much. Her scar was going to burst her skull open soon, and she needs to get back to her room fast.

Suddenly, she froze as her gaze fall on the man's clothing. She had not given it much attention just now. Now, she noticed that the man was dressed in robes and a long billowing black cloak. Just the type of cloak she saw the wizzarding community wore.

Oh dear, could it be Dumbledore? He was tall, she reasoned. However, she noticed that the man was quite thin, which did not fit into Dumbledore's description at all. Had Dumbledore sent a messenger? She would have to check, she gathered.

Or else why would a wizard stepped into the orphanage?

Retracing her steps, Hermione approached the figure. She crouched down cautiously beside the figure. Her scar was burning again.

She smacked her forehead in frustration and closed her eyes. Trying to control her pain, she reached out gently and tapped the wizzard's shoulders.

Nothing happened. He did not stir at all. Feeling worried, Hermione gave his shoulders another shake, harder this time. Still there was no response.

Gathering all her strength, Hermione tried as gently as possible to turn the figure over. After a few attempts, she managed to turn the man over. He was lying on his back now.

The man was quite handsome, Hermione noted. His jet black hair was slightly messy and some locks of it had fallen into his eyes. He had pale skin, which made him looked like a waxed doll. He had just the perfect nose, a full-lipped mouth and a smooth face with high cheekbones. He looked as though he was in his forties.

Another low moan escaped the man's lips, and he stirred. His hands were folded neatly across his chest, and his fingers were clenched into fists. From one of the pockets of the black cloak, Hermione could just see the tip of a wand poking out.

Hermione's scar throbbed painfully. She pressed her lips together. She could do it. Perhaps this wizard could help her. After all, Dumbledore sent him here, right?

And thus, without knowing who she was dealing with, Hermione Jean Granger reached out, grabbed one of the man's arms and started to shake him roughly.

"Sir?" she called in a voice which was gentle and kind. "Excuse me, sir?"

Finally, the man blinked and opened his eyes. Before she knew it, Hermione saw the man quickly wrenched his arm away from her clutches. He rubbed his eyes with the back of his hands. His gaze was still unfocussed.

A searing pain shot through her scar, and that was the last thing Hermione knew. She sank down on the ground and started to scream loudly. She could no longer control her pain.

She felt a cold hand on her cheeks as she began to drift in and out of consciousness again. As the cold fingers connected with her skin, her scar burned again. She screamed.

HG/LV/HG/LV/HG/LV/HG/LV

^^ Ta da! Done! Please don't hate me! Plan to make this suspense!

^^ No idea when next chapter will be up! Will write when I feel like it!

^^ Let me know how all of you liked it! Can't wait to read your wonderful reviews after a hard and tiring day studying the law, hehe. Cheers!

~~ Hermione Hean Fui ~~


End file.
